Belief
by Pranksta
Summary: COMPLETE! Sheppard is not as special as he thought, McKay begs to differ. Fire, women, identity crisis and death can't terminate a true friendship.
1. Chapter 1

Thanks to Angela who always manages to make everything much much much better.

**Warnings**: No noticeable spoilers but some familiar concepts. Feedback would be good :) Can't fix something you don't know is broken eh?

**Belief in oneself**

He stood, boots lapped by the water of the lake. This planet was beautiful; covered by lush flora, the sun shone brightly, the grass moved languidly in the soft breeze that carried a hint of lavender. Were he a poet, he would've said it was idyllic in such a way as to move his soul to shed its diamond tears. But he was not, hence his earlier remark that it was _nice_.

They were waiting for Teyla and Ronon to come back from meeting the Atle's Higher House. Rodney was sitting a few feet away. John let his eyes roam the horizon lazily. Sunglasses perched on his nose, body relaxed, except for the hand resting on the P-90 attached to his vest, he surveyed the perimeter he'd established. It stretched only as far as he could see due to his conviction that anything would be heard before it was seen. This world was so quiet and peaceful, he couldn't imagine anything jumping out and leaving them in a gory mess.

"Do we have to?" said a voice laced with irritation.

"McKay, it's just one night! It's not going to kill you!"

The complaining had been very limited, so far, for a mission involving foot travel. Therefore, John had only been mildly aggravated when Rodney had voiced the opinion that the possibility of spending the night here was entirely unacceptable. _He_ was an important member of this expedition! _He_ had things to do. _He_ didn't spend his down time running around and pretending to read a book that was obviously too taxing for the lesser people.

"You don't know that! We could die here, tonight, and it would all be your fault, Colonel!"

"Or you could die right here, right now, from being shot…I'd take the blame for that!"

He loved putting that look on the scientist's face, the one indicating he wasn't sure whether he was being ridiculed or not. He adjusted his weapon in a noticeable way hoping to heighten the effect of the previous comment.

The frustrated glare, the wrinkled eyebrows, the crossed arms…here we go, the genius figured it out!

"Are you threatening to shoot me again? That is just completely unprofessional you know! I should tell Elizabeth about this!"

"Yes, you should, because being a tattletale is very professional!"

…3…2…1…

There was an affronted snort followed by a fuming scientist slowly getting up and walking away. John snickered and called out to him.

"Don't go too far, McKay! I don't want to have to chase after you!"

He received a vague hand gesture which might have been offensive, it was difficult to tell. Sheppard was not worried about letting McKay go and vent. That man could scream loud enough to reach Earth and he'd finally mastered the art of not letting his gun's clip fall to the ground when shooting.

Stretching, as he watched the long purposeful strides taking Rodney away, John reflected on how pleasant this day was.

Before long, Teyla and Ronon came back, a dejected McKay trailing a few feet behind. Teyla explained what had transpired during the meeting. It was their first time to this world and they needed to make a good impression.

"The Atle have requested that we stay for the evening mass, at which point we shall be blessed. Once we have received blessings from the Celebrant we shall be officially allied and free to negotiate."

"What do they mean by blessed?"

"We will be required to chant with the villagers, be presented to the Celebrant and share in their feast."

John smiled and clapped his hands once.

"Great! That's great! A little mass, a little food and we'll be set for months!

"I'm an atheist, this is against my belief!"

"Ah but Rodney…blessing pure evil like you is against _my_ belief but I'm still going to allow it! For all you know, the Celebrant could have a ZPM for a hat, and correct me if I'm wrong but, doesn't atheism mean you have no beliefs?"

"Then it's against my non-beliefs! Anyway, these backwater worlds do seem to have the ridiculous notion that a ZedPM is _pretty _to look at and _prance_ around with. They could be worshiping one…"

It was quite a sight, Doctor Rodney McKay demonstrating what he thought alien prancing looked like. Expressing himself through his body was second nature to him; he never realised he did it, thus providing a source of constant amusement to all.

John filed away the image of the man's frolicking hands for future blackmail purposes.

"Could be, we might get lucky again…" he smiled encouragingly. "Right. Let's set up camp."

They busied themselves; choosing the perfect spot, arranging shelter and determining the sleeping arrangements. The latter was mainly to decide who would have to share with Ronon; he was a kicker. The limited space in those two-man tents made for a pain-filled night for whoever got the short straw. Between a kicking Ronon and a drooling McKay, John would have to choose…

"Teyla! Alright!"

"Why am I always the one stuck with him! This must be fixed in some way! I'm sick of it! I bruise easily you know!"

A reply came in a growling voice that held no sympathy, if a touch of amusement. "Sleep outside."

"Ah! Certainly not. I can just imagine –"

"Oh stop it! You deserve each other! One kicks and the other snorts and drools, we should make this the permanent bunk assignments!"

"Oh you would say that! Teyla's all warmth and moans…" Rodney's voice softened on the last word and his eyes shone with a dreamlike glow.

"Moans…" a dark eyebrow raised, a scientist blushed.

Having arranged their site, with the soothing sound of a mumbling McKay as background, they left for mass. When they reached the village, they were met by a short, balding man who ran up to them, beaming. His eyes were mere slits in a rounded face. He explained he was partially blind and could make out blurry forms if he forced his eyes to see. He'd asked to accompany them to mass, it was an honour to bring guests, make them part of their faith.

He led them to a small, domed construction where, it seemed, the whole village had congregated. Whispers assailed them as they walked in but that was the way it usually was; they were outsiders.

As instructed, they knelt on the first row and held their heads down. The whispers subsided when a slim woman joined the gathering. She made her way to the front, a rich, saffron-coloured cloak covering her entirely.

She stood, arms spread wide and the chanting began. Swaying softly in time with the swelling voices, she raised her head. Illuminated brightly by innumerable candles, she removed her cloak to reveal a shimmering gold dress and short pixiesque hair. Chanting covered the amazed exclamation that escaped Ronon, Teyla and Rodney. Slowly, and in complete synchronization, three heads swivelled to the left.

John stared straight ahead, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, mouth open in surprise. He didn't notice his team's gape. He could only stare and try to make sense of what he was seeing.

The Celebrant's eyes roamed the assembled people, smiling kindly. As she took in the sight of the dark-haired stranger, the smile disappeared. She froze and promptly departed in a flurry of fabric, a trail of guard following.

Heedless of the sound and activity that had erupted around them, Rodney asked a very pertinent question, pointing in the direction of the retreating Celebrant.

"Am I the only one who saw…Sheppard…in a dress…stand…uh…right there?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Principle**

Warm. He was pleasantly warm and comfortable. A light breeze ran over him and he recognised the scent of lavender. A lake surrounded by long blades of grass came to mind followed by an impression of well-being and bright sunshine. He snuggled into the warmth pressed against his body, his skin brushing against a rough fabric.

He heard a loud snort and the bulky object shifted beneath his cheek, effectively taking hold of his contentment and discarding it. Lifting his head from the jacketed chest upon which it was resting, John's eyes locked with sleep-filled blue ones.

"McKay!"

He scrambled to get away from the man but found he couldn't put more than a few inches between them. He attempted to move again more forcefully but was roughly pulled back against the chest his head had just vacated.

"McKay…What's happening?"

"I was going to ask you the same question. Why aren't you getting off me?"

"I can't…"

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I mean I can't! Something's pulling me back!"

"I've heard of animal magnetism but really, this is ridiculous. Can't you move at all?"

Pulled would've been a more accurate way of describing the feeling that kept Sheppard immovably drawn to the man. He moved slowly, sliding away and was able to lie on his back, the side of his body pressed against Rodney's from shoulder to foot.

"This isn't good…"

"Next you're going to tell me that Earth is round, right? How very perceptive of you, Colonel!"

John turned his head in an attempt to familiarize himself with their surroundings. Only bright, clear, blue sky filled his range of vision. No walls, no trees, no people…no one but Rodney McKay. His chest tightened as two words suddenly jumped the queue of his mind, demanding attention.

"Can you see Teyla and Ronon!"

"I can see them and I can feel Teyla. Didn't you see her while you were using me as a mattress, she's right there! God, it's so hot! We're all going to die of sunstroke."

"We're not! Are they ok?"

"Sure, they're still out. Ronon's been kicking me periodically but let's not focus on my discomfort since it doesn't seem to be of any concern to anyone but me! I think we were drugged earlier…"

"Yeah? Did you know that Earth is round, McKay!"

Turning away from the grumbling, glaring scientist, John shifted his position slightly to establish a new perimeter. He'd liked the one near the lake much more than this.

They were on a wooden plank and…that was it. That was the only thing he could see from this angle. Wood and sky. He turned on his side and came to rest halfway across McKay's body, a leg thrown over his.

"What the hell are you doing!" Rodney was ineffectually attempting to push him off.

"Just trying to see what's on that side."

"You could've asked! I would've told you!"

"Yes well, if I am going to figure a way out of here, I need to see where we are."

He took in the sight of Teyla, her back pressed tightly against Rodney's side, her head on Ronon's shoulder as both slept off the drug. John slid back to his original position having learned nothing that could possibly be of use. They appeared to be on a platform, high up in the air and that was all the information he was going to get from this angle.

Rodney had stretched his arm up slightly and seemed to be pulling against an unseen restraint.

"There's a force field. That's why we can't move away from each other. See…" He tried to raise his arm further but it was roughly pushed back against John's. Grasping Sheppard's hand, McKay pulled both their arms up and they were able to extend them fully. "…it's not around us as much as it is on us. It lets us move freely, as long as we move together."

"So…we're…Superglued together?"

Rodney rolled his eyes but the effect went unnoticed, John being on his back, staring at the arm he was attempting to dislodge from the field as Rodney had done a moment ago.

"No, not Superglue since we're able to move slightly apart. Let's use big boy words and stick with force field." He interrupted himself to snort in disgust and continued his explanation, having expressed his displeasure. "Now, we seem to be linked together as a group rather than to each other individually which means we can rearrange our position. You could move in between Teyla and Ronon as long as you do it without moving away completely from the person you are linked with before linking with the next person."

"When I move I'll eventually stop being pulled against you to be pulled against Teyla."

"Yes."

"Well that's good news!" It really was. McKay was an okay kind of guy, but you didn't want to be stuck with him, literally.

"I'd have to…roll over you and Teyla to get to Ronon?"

"Yes, so please tell me you don't need to change places because that would, you know, piss me off. You might be skinny but you're not light, as you just demonstrated by rudely rolling over me like I was your personal –"

Sounds were coming from below, as if a crowd was amassing. It grew stronger, quieting Rodney. They strained themselves to make out the words being spoken in what seemed to be a woman's voice. The crowd erupted into cheers when she ended her speech. For some time nothing more happened, no one spoke, but eventually the scent the breeze carried changed. No longer sweet, it contained acridness reminiscent of…

"Smoke! That's smoke! Where's that coming from!"

Then the word came, reaching for them, carried by the crowd's thunderous cries.

"Sorcery! Sorcery! Sorcery!"

"It's coming from below."

Waking up Teyla and Ronon was no easy task but they managed it quickly, egged on by the black smoke rising in menacing swirls. They explained the situation briefly, the urgent need to evaluate it bearing more weight than the immediate understanding of the newly awakened. The team slid their way to the edge with difficulty, unaccustomed to moving as a whole and peered down.

The smoke made it difficult to see, surrounding them before continuing on its way towards the heavens. They could see the crowd formed by the villagers, standing around the Celebrant and her guards. However, their attention was quickly diverted by long, hungry flames making their way to them. Fire burned, climbing the wood-covered metal posts supporting the platform. The instant the crowd noticed them, angry, hungry cries reached their ears.

"Sorcery! Sorcery! Sorcery! Destroy the Sorcery!"

Seemingly wanting to jump on the 'pertinent observations' bandwagon, Ronon spoke the obvious.

"We're going to be burned alive."

Never one to be outdone, Rodney had to propel pertinence to new heights.

"That's…much more damaging than sunstroke…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Loss of faith**

The crowd cheered as the first flame licked the wood.

"They will burn! We will be protected! The Sorcery will be destroyed!" The Celebrant smiled brilliantly as the crowd erupted in gleeful cries. Fire would cleanse their world, would remove the inconvenience that had appeared in the being that is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.

Raising her arms towards the platform, she encouraged the crowd. "We shall be free of all nefarious forces! They will not threaten our world! They will not bring the wrath of the Powers upon us!" He words conveyed a confidence she did not feel.

It had shocked her to the deepest recesses of her being to see him, to see herself in him. The same eyes, cheeks, lips, jaw, ears. Even the hair was appallingly similar, black strands sticking up at odd angles. It always shocked her.

The moment she had laid eyes on him, her world had been turned upside down both literally and figuratively. She had been waiting, knowing he would come. This was her mission, what needed to be done. At last, he had arrived and she would be released from her position of servitude.

She had spun quite a tale to the High House so they would allow her to…dispose of the threat. In a matter of hours, this would be behind her; she would forget there had ever been a need for it. She would go back to her life.

Shaking her head to dislodge this unwelcome contemplation she joined the crowd in their cries of sorcery. All eyes went to the four heads that had appeared at the edge of the platform, barely discernable through the smoke. Only shouts could be carried over such a distance. Consequently, McKay's words went unheard by everyone save for the members of his team.

"We're going to die and it's going to be painful and this is so barbaric! What kind of primitive society would burn people alive!"

On and on he went, trying to get a grip on his wayward thoughts. Thoughts that involved agonizing, skin scorching, drawn out death. If he talked enough, he would eventually branch out and think of something else. That's how his brain worked. Constantly jumping from one thought to the next until it found a satisfyingly logical solution to the pertaining problem. This time there was no solution, no great plan, nothing to distract him. He kept being drawn to death, fiery death. So he talked, and talked, and talked.

The smoke rose along with the heat. It was so hot. The fire was coming closer and closer. Soon, they would be nothing but roasting carcasses. The team slowly moved back to their original position, lying on their backs, one beside the other, staring up at the blue sky covered with a grey haze from the fire beneath them.

"McKay! We're not going to die! Stop talking about smoke and burning, it's not helping!"

"Is your brain affected by that cornfield you call hair! Of course we're going to die! This is it! After all that's happened and all the times we haven't died, this is it! We're going to die! There's nothing I can do! Nothing! No doors to force open, no jumper pods to retract, no bombs to make! I'm useless and we're going to die!"

Rodney felt the arm joined with his move and a hand came to rest lightly upon his clammy fist. He uncurled his fingers, turning his hand so palms would meet. No shame in needing comfort, he'd take what he could get. It was pointless to try the stoically manly attitude, it was all over for them and he'd never pull it off. No one would comment on his weakness. Ever.

"Rodney. We are not going to die. We'll find a way. Stop thinking about death and start thinking about getting us out of here!" Unwilling to admit his fear, John concentrated on easing McKay's distress. He moved his hand to still the fidgeting fingers beneath his in an effort to ground his team-mate. This was not normal McKay ranting. He was genuinely afraid. John wasn't sure when he had started to see the difference but was glad he could. It gave him an immediate purpose, something upon which to concentrate.

"We're going to be fine. We'll get out of this just like we've done before."

Rodney was slowly quieting. Going from panicked to anxious to merely annoyed.

How could Sheppard, after everything he'd seen, stay positive all the time! Didn't he realise there was nothing up here, nothing they could do, nothing they could use! Given a piece of technology, he could do wonders, sure, but nothing…come on!

"It's not going to happen this time. I can't do anything!"

A gruff voice called to him. "McKay! Shut up and figure it out." Positive influence, thy name is Ronon.

Comforted by John and challenged by Ronon, Rodney's brain left the world of doom to concentrate on the problem. "Do we have anything to work with?"

"I have a knife."

A snort and a roll of eyes was all this observation warranted but it got more nonetheless. "Of course you have knife! You always have a knife! Do we have anything that isn't completely primitive?"

They had nothing. No vests, no packs, just the clothes on their backs. He tried to find something, they all did. Some ideas they developed as feasible plans of actions, but they would most likely yield no results. Other devised plans were just words of desperation; hopeless ideas from helpless minds.

It took an hour for them to admit defeat, to realise this time, there was no way out. An hour of rising smoke and heat. An hour of brain wracking thinking, searching for a solution. Rodney had been right in his assessment; death was the only possible outcome. Even Sheppard had to give up, let go of his eternal optimism and face the truth. He couldn't push, he couldn't force this. There would be no last minute solutions. So he listened to Rodney, trying to cope with the inevitable.

"I like being right, but this is taking things too far. This is a dream, I'll wake up in my lab, find a way to build a ZedPM, and finally get the recognition I deserve." He spoke with a certainty he did not feel. "Yes, yes yes. That's it, I'm dreaming, this isn't happening. It's so vile. I can't die like this, it's so beneath me! Destiny can't possibly be that cruel…to just…burn me!"

He turned to John who seemed to be resting but was probably ignoring him, as he often did. "I did drown in an alternate timeline. How ironic! Death by water and now by fire! It has some kind of…" he tried to move his hand but was unable to, due to the force field. "…poetic justice…"

The smoke still rose, the heat was intensifying. They let him talk. It soothed them just as it did him. The normalcy of a McKay monologue.

The flames were visible at times, bright flashes of red and orange that licked the edge of the platform. A time for last words, for confessions. None were forthcoming. Only the sound of Rodney's voice could be heard.

No cheers from below, no birds from above, only Rodney.

Until he realised the fingers locked with his were no longer pressing back, the hand was slack. That is when the ongoing one-way conversation stopped.

He turned his head and experienced a similar shock to that of the Celebrant earlier. Upon seeing Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Rodney stopped responding to the world, his weakened system unable to allow for the lack of food and water, the warmth, and the heart stopping horror that assaulted it. He gave up; closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, choosing to ignore the situation in which he found himself. There was nothing he could contribute, aside from a continuous panicked babble

Teyla felt his body slacken against hers .The loss of tension and sudden silence worried her. She reached out a hand and shook him lightly.

"Rodney! Rodney!"

Ronon was pressed against her back, assessing the situation.

"What's wrong?"

"I do not know. Rodney?" Teyla pressed her fingers against his cheek. His eyes were shut, his breathing even.

"Food, or water? He needs –?"

"I do not carry sustenance in my vest."

"Sheppard," Ronon called out, "you got food?"

No answer came from John. He did not move, did not utter a sound.

"Sheppard!"

Teyla stretched herself across Rodney's still form to get to John. He laid unmoving, his chest never rising from breath filling his lungs. She reached for his neck and felt nothing. She moved her hand aimlessly, distressfully.

"There is no pulse! Ronon! No pulse!"

"What?"

He attempted to see but was roughly pulled back against Teyla, the force field holding them together. She moved over Rodney, lying on him entirely to allow space for Ronon to get closer.

He needed to be made aware of what had happened. She could not carry this on her own. He needed to know so she could be strong again, because somebody was there with her. Rodney had dealt as best he could and for an instant she wanted to give up too. If Ronon knew, if they shared this moment of utter dismay, then, she could go on. She no longer would be frozen in time, unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to think. The world would resume its axial spin and John Sheppard would cease to be the centre of…everything.

This time, there was no pertinence, no reassuring banter…only cold hard fact.

"Colonel Sheppard is dead!"


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you Angela! I don't know where John would be without you...ok...probably in the same situation but heck, it wouldn't be as neatly written that's for sure!

Many thanks to anyone who reads and everyone who reviews :) It's always nice to know people care...oh look at that, I'm getting all teary eyed :) I hope you will enjoy this chapter!

**Doubt**

"Ow"

First thought, pain. The headache of the century. He pushed himself to a sitting position slowly opening his eyes. No bright lights assaulted him, for which he was grateful. He leaned against a wall and took in his surroundings. A room, small and sparingly furnished. He sat on a long, wide cushion placed on the floor in a corner. There was a small wooden table and a chair across the room, a bucket in the opposite corner.

The room was naturally lighted. A large glassless window stretched above him letting the sunlight in. He closed his eyes a moment and massaged his temples in an attempt to soothe his throbbing head. Hearing footsteps, he stood as fast as his sluggish body would allow.

A woman entered the room. She wore a cloak of green gauzy material that covered her from neck to toes. Fiery red hair cascaded down her back. She walked slowly, cautiously, eyeing John as he eyed her.

"You have awakened. I am pleased"

"Yes, I have… but…I'm not exactly sure why I was sleeping here…"

She smiled sweetly at his inquiringly lifted eyebrow. "No, I suppose you are not. It must be a great surprise!"

She fell silent. Great, a deliberately obtuse…keeper? He wasn't sure. Was he a prisoner? There were no guards, no restraints, not even a door to this room, only a door shaped hole in the wall near the bucket.

"What am I doing here?" He adopted a deceivingly nonchalant pose, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"You belong here," she answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Of course, he belonged here, that made complete sense! Yes! On a strange planet, in a strange galaxy, this was where he was meant to be. Not in Atlantis, not with his team. His stomach plummeted as he remembered the predicament in which they had been. Last thing he remembered was Rodney saying it had to be a dream whilst they lay on a platform, nearing death from being barbecued by his evil twin.

Affected nonchalance gave way to intense scrutiny. "Where's my team?"

The woman sat on the chair by the desk. She'd removed her cloak, uncovering a leather dress. It reminded John of the long leather skirt Teyla often wore, the one with slits down its side. Without the long part. The woman reclined in the chair, crossing her legs. John gave an idle thought to Sharon Stone and the miracles of little white dresses in 90's thrillers before stopping himself. This was not a good time to think of murderous seductresses.

"Your…companions are well; there is no cause for worry."

How he hated people who said that. It was always done in the hopes of bringing a false sense of security to the situation. Here he was, in a strange place, with a strange woman, without his team and there was no cause for worry?

"I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with you on that. Seems I've been abducted and lost my team. That, to me, is a cause for worry. It wouldn't be so bad if you could just tell me why I'm here and what or where this place is."

The woman looked positively confused. She got up and walked over to where John tensely stood. She laid a hand on his arm and looked up to meet his eyes.

"This is your home! You belong here!"

One crazy alien woman, coming right up! Maybe it was his ancient gene, maybe he gave off some kind of 'I'm yours for the taking' vibe that made women insane. He hoped Rodney would never hear of this, he'd have a field day! When he got out of here and reunited with his team, he would lie! Lie through his teeth! Say he'd been taken by big hairy men who wanted to enslave him! Oh…what if that's what the woman meant! He needed to get her to talk. Crazy or not, she probably had a few answers for him.

"I _belong_ here?"

She took a step closer and fitted her body closely to his. He backed up a step and hit the wall. She raised a hand to stroke his cheek.

"I have found you…" Her green eyes shone brightly.

"That you have. Why were you looking for me?"

She pouted prettily and scooted closer to him. "I have never stopped looking for you, not since the moment you were made to leave. I told you I would find a way. You doubted me didn't you? You never truly had faith in my abilities!"

She turned away from him, hands on hips. When he made no move towards her she turned back, pout firmly in place.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

Did he ever! "I don't know what this is about but I've never, seen you, before." Oh no, oh no, wrong thing to say, wrong thing to say! Panic! Strategic retreat would be ideal right about now! He'd seen that look on many girlfriends before. The one that said he was screwed. The eyes narrowed, the lips went further into pouting mode and a hand came to rest upon a canted hip while the other lifted a pointed finger.

"After all this time, all my efforts you still cannot be a gentleman! I don't know why I waste my time on you!" With those words, the woman spun around and left, forgetting the cloak that lay on the desk. John was left to ponder upon this strange encounter.

He walked to the door, intent on following the woman and asking for some sort of explanation but quickly realised this wasn't feasible as he took a step outside and encountered only air. Lunging backwards, he made a timely grab of the doorway saving himself from a deathly plunge.

The room stood a long way above ground. He could see the woman exiting from some sort of elevator down below. He watched her walk until she disappeared in a thickly forested area then turned back to evaluate his chance of escape.

He took inventory of the items available to him and came up quite short of the desired James Bond paraphernalia. He had a bucket, a chair, a table, and a cushion. McKay's voice echoed in his mind '_what am I, McGyver_'. To his credit, after speaking those words, McKay had in fact found them a way home.

"As long as I can breathe…" John spoke his credo aloud in the hopes of encouraging himself. He'd always managed to escape difficult situation; there was no reason why he couldn't do it now. He was not burning and that was a good thing…right?

His chest tightened. What if this was death? What if they'd all died on that platform and this was…Heaven? He snorted in self-disgust. Highly unlikely, he'd probably end up in Hell with all the things he had done. Going from the basis that they were all alive and well, John decided he needed a plan since, according to his count, it was his turn to save the day. Apparently, he and Rodney had this 'thing' going on where each had his turn at being the hero. He'd been quite surprised when he heard of this from Teyla after their trek in the virtual reality, virtual _environment,_ on the Aurora but now he was glad he knew. Saving himself was never as big of an incentive as saving his people.

"Hey, whatever works" he said to the empty room as he shrugged in apparent carelessness. "That's right, keep up the appearance; you might just convince yourself you're that much of a bad-ass, John!"

He ran a hand through his hair, taking a moment to push away the helplessness he felt. Raising his head and squaring his shoulders in a defiant stance, he moved throughout the room, looking for something, anything that would permit him to make sense of the situation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Strength**

Rodney roused, the smell of smoke gripping and dragging him into the world of the conscious too quickly. The second sense to be afflicted by stimulus was touch; from the heat, unbearable heat. Sweat poured out of him, soaking his clothes sticking to his skin. Hearing came next, in the form of Teyla's gentle voice. Then sight joined in, as he opened his eyes.

"Rodney. Look at me."

"Teyla?" Her calm face loomed above him, a strand of hair tickling his nose.

She smiled and removed the hand that had been on his cheek, attempting to wake him. Why was she laying on him? She wasn't heavy but it was so hot; he couldn't stand it, stand her body heat mixing with his, her sweat dripping on him. Shaking his head, he realigned his thoughts. What had happened?

They'd…gone to mass and seen a woman. Right, Shepardette, the crazy Celebrant. She was the one who had ordered them to be tied in a great fit of fury. She'd made quite a scene, shouting about sorcery, power and dangerous evil forces. She'd screamed like a banshee and had them sedated. They'd woken up here and…there had been fire and Sheppard…

"Sheppard?" He turned his head to the right, where Sheppard's body lay. His eyes were closed as if he were sleeping. A bit strange for him to be asleep at a time like this. Rodney shouldered him before a hand took hold of his chin, turning his head back. Teyla spoke in a calming voice, almost a whisper.

"Rodney. He is dead." She held a finger to his lips, preventing him from speaking. "You must move. Ronon will take your place beside him."

She slid off him, rolled over Ronon and lay on her back beside the man. Ronon was pulled against Rodney.

He spoke, his breath flowing over Rodney's face. "Move."

"No." Rodney couldn't comply. He held unto Sheppard's hand like a drowning man on a buoy. There was no way he was letting go. Even when Teyla argued it was for the best, even when Ronon threatened to forcibly remove him, he held on.

"I'll just go on the other side." Ronon thought this was the most practical approach. If they were to escape, save themselves from the fire, he needed to help carry the body. McKay was strong but not enough for this.

Carefully distributing his weight, Ronon made his way across McKay then Sheppard's body and landed on his back. He had not failed to notice how Rodney clung to Sheppard's hand and it disturbed him greatly. Not because men shouldn't do those things; no, he understood that friendship between two men could be a strong bond and necessitate physical comfort. He needed it too sometimes and was glad Teyla could provide solace. If he sat too close or let a hand rest on her shoulder a moment too long, she never acknowledged it, quietly letting him take comfort from her soothing presence.

To see McKay hold on to Sheppard's limp hand disturbed him because the scientist was not the kind of man who could tolerate death in such proximity. He was not a soldier, had not developed the ability to step out of himself, to detach himself from traumatic events and walk on. McKay still winced at thoughts of the deceased. It pained him to be alive when so many were not. He could feign detachment, pretend he didn't feel, but he fooled no one.

Ronon had seen men, trained soldiers, overwhelmed by grief carry severed bodies over great distances. Those men never came back from the battles; they couldn't forget their fallen friend. To be attached to Sheppard like that would be a great strain on McKay. It would be a great strain on Ronon as well but he had dealt with so much that he felt he was prepared even if this was Sheppard. Not just a member of the team, but Sheppard. The glue that held them together, the fire around which they all convened. Ronon let out a humourless huff as he thought of the more than fitting analogy.

"We need a plan, we need to get him back to Carson. He'll know what to do! Carson'll know! He can do anything. He'll know what's happened to him!" Speaking, always speaking to chase away the fear, the panic, the doubts. Trying to kick-start his brain, Rodney hit his head against the wood beneath it. He felt no pain only encountering the force field. He needed to think of something to get them out of this. Sheppard needed medical attention. They would all need it. It was so hot, so damn burning hot. The temperature would keep on rising, their blood would boil, their skin would melt and eventually, his great proficient brain would only be a puddle in a soot-covered skull. He had to think of something!

The fire was licking the top of the platform, at the edge closest to Teyla. Rodney pulled her to him, drawing her close. She was on top of him again but he kept pulling, taking her away from the flames all the while talking, searching for an idea, for a way to save them. The closer she got to him the further she would be from the flames. He wasn't losing someone else today! No way! No one else was going to pass away before he did! He already had so many deaths on his tally; he wouldn't let her lie there, closest to the flame. If they were to die, he would go first. Nothing could hurt more than the sight of another team-mate, lying in complete stillness by his side. Or in agonizing, writhing pain. Unlucky, that's what they were. If only they hadn't been on top of a stupid platform. They could have been in a room, a closed room. The smoke would've already taken care of them.

He was just a mass of tension and Teyla spoke to him soothingly. Soft voices and kind words had never worked with him, she should've known. It took strength to save Rodney from his ominous thoughts. Strength, Ronon had aplenty.

"McKay! Enough! Think!" Brevity was the key. A rough voice, a commanding tone and you could get Rodney McKay, genius extraordinaire, to do anything.

"Ok ok ok, maybe we can…um…um…we can…" His fingers were running over Teyla's skin in a frenetic motion, absently rhythmic on her back. She doubted he even noticed it.

She stayed immobile, her head resting on his chest, just above the heart. She could hear the quick drumming and feel its frenzied beat against her ear. He held her to him with one arm, his eyes darting every few seconds to his left. She could feel the flames approaching, the heat rising, on parallel course with her fear. They were surrounded by a blanket of scorching heat, closing them off from any other sensation. Her world was reduced to a strong voice urging them to think, an openly frightened scientist, and a dead friend.

"We'll just...jump! We'll jump! Yeah let's do that! Come on, move! We'll just jump down and make a run for it! That's what Sheppard would do! That's what he would do! Crazy maniac with his stupid plans! Stupid plan! It's a stupid plan! What am I saying we can't jump! What the hell kind of plan is that!" His hand tightened around Sheppard's as his voice rose. The Colonel wouldn't complain and wouldn't laugh at him now! Rodney let his sight wander to the left again, where the fire rose. There it was, eating away the wood from the platform, where Ronon had lain earlier. Right there, so close, so close he could touch it. All he'd have to do was reach for it.

"Oh God! We're going to die! There's nothing we can do! I can't think of anything we can do!" He wouldn't give in. He would go out like a man because no matter what anyone said, he was brave, he wasn't a liability, wasn't weak. He wouldn't give in to his panic, he'd stay impassable like Ronon….like Sheppard would've been, like Teyla always was.

"McKay…" Ronon couldn't say anymore. His mind drew a blank on the following words. What _could_ he say! The flames were nearing him and he imagined they came from the opposite side as well. From the left, the right, above their heads and below their feet, fire encircled them. The smoke alone made their eyes water, their throats burn, and their breathing difficult. Their skin was tender to the touch and McKay's had reddened considerably.

They laid, once again listening to Rodney's vocal rumination waiting for the flames to take them.

Teyla felt the arm that encircled her clench as the flames drew nearer. She raised her head and looked at Ronon. She could see him perfectly, from her position atop McKay. His eyes were closed, his forehead creased in worry.

"Ronon."

He opened his eyes and his they swivelled toward her. The worry eased back, slightly. He didn't smile, but his face softened. He nodded and closed his eyes. She understood he meant to die alone. He'd been alone for so long and was a true warrior. He'd expected to die with only himself as witness and that is what he would do. No regrets could assail him if he died with only Sheppard's silent stillness as company.

She had Rodney or rather, he had her. She wasn't afraid to die. It had always been a part of her, a part of her people. They didn't shy away from death like Earth's people. The Athosians had no choice but to embrace it as an integral part of the living process. To them, and therefore to Teyla, death was simply a new beginning.

She was afraid of the moments that would precede death. The pain that would inevitably come to her, to Rodney and Ronon. She knew it was close when Rodney stopped speaking. She didn't move, didn't want to see what his wide, fearful, blue eyes saw.

Fire, so close. Bringing excruciating death. Rodney tightened his hold on both Sheppard's hand and Teyla's body. He couldn't look away from the bright flames that came to them. In a moment, a minute, a second he would feel it, it would sear his clothes, scorch his skin and he'd have to fight to hold the cry that would rise from deep inside. Turning on his side, he kept Teyla away, pressing her against John. Purposefully inhaling smoke to free himself from fear via the sweet relief of lost consciousness, Rodney offered his back to the fire and waited, eyes shut.


	6. Chapter 6

**Unbelievable**

Thirsty. He was impossibly thirsty.

John supposed they had left Atlantis almost two days ago. The first night they'd been burning and he'd woken up here. Now the sun was rising once again and he found himself in the same little room, high above the ground.

The woman had not been back. He needed water. His head ached and he felt drained. He could only lay on the cushion and hope someone would come soon. He ardently wished the next person to cross the threshold would be Ronon, or Teyla, or Rodney. He'd even be glad to see Caldwell and his weird naked alien!

It was so quiet. Not the relaxing quietness of the lake. This quiet was unnerving because no one would come to break it. He longed for sound, so he spoke to himself periodically, to alleviate his unease.

"If I could find a rope. I could climb down from this place. But there's no rope. Nothing but a table and a chair, a cushion, a bucket, and a nice jacket."

The night had been cold. He'd taken the cloak the woman had left and covered his shivering body. It was not made of the warmest of material but it kept him somewhat comfortable. He felt like he did when he was a child, going camping with his grandfather. He'd lie on a thin camper's mattress, wrapped snugly in a sleeping bag. It was always a bit cold but bearably so, it allowed you to sleep.

"I always got the green sleeping bag and grandpa always got the blue. Here I am, green again. I'm thinking it's my colour!"

He fell quiet, the sound of his voice making him edgy. If he spoke to himself too long, wouldn't he go completely insane? No radio, no pretending someone was listening on the other side.

He shook himself to rattle his thoughts. This was not conducive to a peaceful mind. He needed to get some rest. Then he could plan his escape and save his people.

He closed his eyes and tried to let slumber come for the umpteenth time since the woman had left.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. He stilled and held his breath. Was it real? Had he really heard something? Yes…there it was again. It sounded like…like…

"You are awake!"

Before he could place the sound, the woman was there at the door. It had been the elevator, locking into place. He scrambled to sit up but she had already reached him and, with a hand on his chest, pushed him back down.

"Don't sit up, you seem tired. I have brought you food." She indicated a parcel near his head.

He removed her hand from his body and sat up, his brain supplying a litany of 'food food food give me food give me food'. He did. He bit into a red fruit. Its supple skin breached and let a flow of sweet juicy flesh into his mouth. Good; strawberries with a trace of pear. Yes, juicy, soothing his parched throat. He hadn't noticed how hungry he was before that burst of flavour hit is tongue.

The woman sat close to him, watching him eat with an indulgent smile. His brain started a different chorus. No longer demanding basic physiological fulfilment, it locked unto the evidence. _John, you are an idiot._

He put down the third fruit he was in the process of ingesting and looked at the woman. How could he be so stupid! He'd jumped on the food, never for a moment thinking it could be laced with all sorts of life threatening agents. When had thankful naivety replaced his combative distrustfulness?

"Why are you back? Why now?"

She moved to sit closer, her leg pressing against his, and put a hand on his knee.

"I'm sorry it took me so long. There were…problems that needed to be resolved."

"Problems?" John didn't know what he wanted to hear. Had there been problem with the team? Would she tell is he asked? An affirmative answer would mean they were here, at least, if not with him. A negative would mean…he didn't know what it would mean and wasn't keen on exploring that avenue.

"They have been resolved now and I can take you with me once you have eaten." She reached for a fruit and held it to his mouth, nodding encouragingly.

He held his lips firmly closed and moved his head away from her reach. "What problems? What's happening here?"

She sighed before answering his question. "I have left you here much longer than necessary. Seeing you…it…I forgot for a moment, I mistook you for another." She turned toward him, detailing him. "You look so much like him. In a way, it makes perfect sense, but…none of the others feel so incredibly familiar. Everything about you brings him back to me. I forgot you were not Banee…only a part of him."

_This…is…insane…_

John almost groaned. Thank you, brain, for your magnificent grasp of the blatantly obvious. When he got out of here, he would definitely stop hanging out with McKay off-duty. The man had him snarking _himself_!

"Ok." What else was he going to say! So many questions arose, he couldn't choose just one! Who's Banee! What others? How was he a part of him? What in the sphincter of hell makes perfect sense!

"You are quiet. The others had many questions."

Ding ding ding ding. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner! The next question on the board is…"What others?"

"You will soon meet them. I will take you to there place of residence once you have eaten."

Again with the fruit. He pushed her hand away. "I've had enough, thanks."

"Stubborn." She let out a soft chuckle. "Very well. Follow me."

She stood and waited for him to do the same. He handed her the green cloak. She smiled and put it on before walking to the elevator. John followed at a lazy pace.

Neither of them spoke before reaching the edge of the forest John had observed from above. As they were engulfed by the shadows of tall trees, civility and a good upbringing prompted John to enquire about his captor. Friendly was good. Friendly people weren't killed by crazy women in darkened forests…or so he hoped. He wouldn't have said he was afraid. Not precisely. It was more of an intense disquietude. He was never quite good at reading women. Give him an armed, wild giant running from the Wraith, he could deal…but a woman?

"What's your name?"

She smiled brightly at him and took hold of his hand. He hadn't meant it as an overture but if the lady wanted to hold his hand instead of making him feel all sorts of pain, he was not going to complain. "I am named Oblee."

"Oblee. Nice. Who's…Banee?"

Her grip tightened. "He was my promised." Her voice contained a hint of sadness.

"Where is he?" John spoke quietly, filling his voice with compassion. The subtle art of interrogation resided in ignorance. Never let them know you are looking for answers. He'd had plenty of practice with Elizabeth. Not as interrogator but as interrogatee. The woman had incredible skills. She could make you admit anything in what most would consider friendly conversation over coffee.

The smile was back, her eyes were shining. "He is here. You have brought him to me."

"Me?"

"Yes! You shall see! It will be wonderful! You were the last link, the sixth sense, the missing piece! Now that you have come, I will claim him!"

They had arrived at a house. It looked like the perfect representation of an English cottage. Not that John had ever been to England, but this was it to him. In a clearing surrounded by a forest, a small brook bubbling peacefully, surrounded by blooming flowers, it was definitely cottagey. He searched the area for a fat cat lounging in the sun but could see none. Ah well, it couldn't be perfect. This was, after all, an alien planet. Still, close enough.

He shrugged and followed the woman up the stony path. She preceded him through the door and jovially greeted the inhabitants of the little house. Plastering a neighbourly smile on his face, John stepped in.

The greeting died on his lips as he took in the sights of his new roommates. Two women sat at a round, wooden table sharing a plate of fruit. A man sat on a cosy chair by the fireplace; another was smiling and welcoming Oblee. The last man leaned against the kitchen counter, a glass of pale blue liquid to his lips.

All had the same hazel eyes, the same full lips. All had the same cheeks, the same nose, the same chin. Bone structure, hair colour, everything so incredibly familiar. The women had longer hair and lacked the facial one. The three men had the same carefully constructed dishevelled look and one had a moustache.

John stood, framed in the doorway, and gaped. The five residents of this little house were exact replicas of himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Angela! You rule! As always, great insight, great ideas (I stole one, can you spot it?) and great speed :) I'm so not going to say, because it's probably the best Rodney-line in the whole thing! I wish I had thought of it...ah well, mind over matter! (right, who's the matter and who's the mind of this operation I ask you...)

**Notes:** I promise everything will be much clearer soon. The force field, the Celebrant, John's situation. It's all going to come together and we'll have fun fun fun 'til Elizabeth takes the jumper awaaaaaay (ok, sorry, the Beach Boys may not be the most appropriate music at this time.)(We wil have fun, I promise. They won't...but we will. Well ok, I sure will and I hope you'll be along for the ride!) Thank you to everyone who reads and anyone who reviews, it's so kind of you!

**Assumption**

He thought of what he had done in his life as they waited; breathing in their last breaths, living the last of their corporeal minutes. He thought of his work: in Canada, Colorado, even Siberia. With pride, he thought of Antarctica and Atlantis.

It was home, his true home. Filled with people who accepted him; not because they hadn't the choice to do otherwise, but because they could. Carson, Radek, Elizabeth; numerous science personnel, a lesser number of military; Teyla, Ronon and John.

Strange how he though of him as John but would never call him that. He had been correct in his earlier assessment that the soldier in the Ancient's Chair would only bring trouble. All these missions, all the shenanigans during downtime and now. Mourning.

Wanting for distraction, Rodney slowly opened one eye and fixed it on Teyla. She was staring at something behind him.

Unable to help himself, he questioned her, his voice small and pathetic. "Is it close?"

He was so afraid she would answer in the affirmative; so afraid that the next second would bring heart-stopping pain. She shook her head but her gaze did not falter from the phenomenon which held her enthralled. "It…doesn't seem to be moving."

"What!"

"It is behind you, but is not progressing in our direction."

He wanted to look. Wanted to turn around and see what she saw, but fear held him in stillness. What if he turned just as the flame reached him?

Seeing his hesitation, Teyla laid a hand on his chest. "Do not look. Tell me this: do you not feel the heat?"

"Of course I do! We've been feeling it for hours!"

"Has it increased? Do you feel it more than you did before? Are you…does it feel…are you burning?" She gently stroked his chest in a circular motion, going over his shoulder slightly. Her other hand gripped his jacket; she held on to him as fiercely as he held on to her. They never had been very close despite their team-mate status and responsibility for each other's life, but they needed this proximity. The questions she asked were of a terrible nature but she needed to know. She doubted Rodney could suffer such pain in silence, although stranger things had happened.

"No..." he took in a shaky breath, "should I be?"

From behind her, Ronon spoke. Rodney raised his eyes to him; he lay on his side, pressed against John's inert body. Flames rose behind him and Rodney could not help the yelp that escaped him.

"Ronon! Get away from there, you're going to…"

Ronon interrupted him. "I don't feel it and neither do you."

"What do you mean you don't feel it! It's right behind you; should be burning right through your clothes!"

Teyla's gaze strayed to the fire behind him. "I think…is it possible that the force field would protect us?"

Rodney took a moment to ponder the possibility. His eyes widened and a smile broke the mask of doom that covered his face. He turned around, taking care to shield Teyla, and observed what she had been seeing.

The flames were stationary, eating at the wood that covered the metal skeleton of the platform. Rodney edged closer but was held back by the weight of the three people attached to him. He couldn't reach out to touch it and prove Teyla right, but thought it was the most likely explanation.

"It isn't moving forward. The wood directly below us is still whole." He finally had something upon which to concentrate.

They were surrounded by walls of fire, unable to see anything but angry, red and orange flames. This development was a fortunate one but still did not allow them to escape, a fact that Ronon felt he had to expose.

"Are we just going to stay here until the flames die?"

Teyla turned in the circle of Rodney's arm and tried to ignore John's lifeless body which she now faced. She concentrated on Ronon's strong presence and Rodney's warm, living body pressed against her back; his beating heart, his wide chest expanding with breath.

"There is no way for us to assess the situation. If we move, we run the risk of going over the edge and falling to the ground."

Ronon knew she was right but couldn't stand inaction. Apparently, neither did Rodney.

"We can't just stay here! Once the fire dies down, they'll find us and who knows what'll happen then!"

They decided to move, try to take their chance at freedom. Ronon edged closer to the flame as Teyla and Rodney followed, pushing John's body as it was pulled to Ronon. Without a sound Ronon went through the flame and was soon out of sight. John followed, then Teyla. Before long, Rodney was alone in the circle of flames making a conscious effort to control his breathing. It was erratic at best; the thought of willingly sliding himself through fire bringing him back to the edge of terrorized inactivity.

"Mind over matter, McKay, mind over matter. You know it can't hurt you, you _know_ it!"

When they had all made it through the fire burned what little wood was left of the platform. They lay on the scorching hot metal plate that supported the platform and though the heat rose significantly from the contact, they were unharmed.

Ronon surveyed the area, his body lying alongside the edge of the metal. The soft light told him it was morning. He spied a man, walking in a path towards a well but no one else. McKay's impatient questions brought him out of his silent observation.

"What do you see? Can we get down?"

The platform was supported by metal beams. Four long ones rose from the ground forming a square that was strengthened by numerous horizontal beams spaced evenly.

"Maybe."

An exasperated huff told him this answer was not satisfactory for a certain physicist. "Maybe! We don't do maybes. I need a definite answer, preferably of the yes or no kind!"

Ronon turned and glared at Rodney who glared right back. Relief flooded him as he took in the normalcy of the exchange, and the look Teyla wore told him she felt the same.

"Yes."

"Just like that, it goes from a maybe to a yes!"

"McKay, I said what you wanted to hear. We move, now."

A contrite McKay nodded his acceptance. Strength: it worked every time. Rodney move to come and lay beside Ronon to familiarise himself with the construction.

"The only thing we can do, and you're not going to like this, in fact, I don't like this and I can't believe I'm going to suggest such a dangerously damaging plan of action because we all know that –"

"McKay! Shut up and let's just go down the beams!"

McKay stared at Ronon, frowning, displeased that his diatribe had been so easily taken from him. It made him feel secure, normal, and he needed it. Ronon had judged it wasn't the time for McKay to rant and rave. He understood the visceral need for words that drove the man but needed Rodney to concentrate on the moment; no matter how reticent he was to do so.

"Yes. Let's try it. Not like we have many other options."

Working out the descent was time consuming. Going down those beams would've been difficultly manageable at the best of times; it was nearly impossible now that they were stuck to one another. Their freedom of movement was highly compromised by the force field. The added weight of Sheppard's body was not negligible.

They sat on the edge, feet hanging over emptiness. On the signal, they slid down, facing the platform, and grabbed the first horizontal beam on which the wood had lain. They stood on the beam below and carefully lowered themselves to a sitting position, Ronon holding on the vertical beam at the corner for support. Rodney had never been agile and this was demanding every single ounce of concentration he had. He pushed the many disastrous outcome of this endeavour away from his mind.

They had almost made it to the ground when a female voice came from being them. "You are an incredible annoyance to me."

Startled, Rodney lost his balance, causing a ripple effect. Thankfully, Ronon was unnaturally strong and he managed to hold on to the beam and prevent them from taking a fall that would've been highly unpleasant on their back muscles. The Celebrant laughed but did not speak another word until they had reached terra firma.

"I see you have escaped unscathed." She didn't look angry, merely bothered. "How tragic then that I shall put a stop to your attempt." She gestured for the men that stood at attention a few steps away. They viciously grabbed for the team but were unable to achieve contact, the force field preventing them from latching on to their prey.

The woman muttered, shaking her head, "She has gone too far. This is supposed to be over; she was only meant to take the one, let me dispose of the others."

Rodney's brain finally clicked into place and provided him with the obvious. He nearly groaned aloud at his own stupidity; his lack of foresight. This was like the shield he had found back on Atlantis; he was, or they were, undoubtedly invulnerable.

He spoke quietly to Ronon, "Let's run."

"They have our weapons."

"Remember the green shield I had? Same thing. Oh right, you weren't there. We've encountered something like this before. I can't believe I didn't think of it bef –"

"McKay?"

"It basically makes us untouchable. There's no way we can get hurt. Sheppard shot me while I was wearing it and I didn't feel a thing."

Ronon found the though of Sheppard shooting McKay quite distracting and promised himself he would ask. No, Sheppard was dead. How unnatural was it; he couldn't even remember.

"Are you sure we can't be hurt?"

"Didn't I just say that? Either way, it's worth a try." Rodney nodded eagerly.

Ronon eyed him distrustfully but acquiesced nonetheless. The Celebrant was still muttering to herself as the guards encircling them started to shuffle nervously.

"Lady Celebrant? They are speaking amongst themselves."

The Celebrant came closer and instructed her men. "Take them to the granary and watch over them. They must not be allowed to leave! I have pressing matters which must be dealt with. Guard them, I shall return shortly!"

She went and the guards attempted to intimidate the team to move. Rodney jutted out his chin and stood, all the stubbornness he could muster etched upon his face.

"We are not going with you. I think we're going to take a stroll to the gate."

Teyla sharp intake of breath reminding him that she had not been privy to the earlier conversation.

"This is like the shield. Remember? The green shield I activated when I got the gene; the one that nearly killed me?" he paused for a moment, struck by a thought, "I hope this one will switch off, but, I'm not hungry? Are you hungry? I should definitely be hungry by now. It's been what, a day and a half since we've eaten?"

She nodded as he continued to obsess over his hunger-less state and they started to walk away, hindered by the deadweight that was their leader. The guards stood, dumbstruck, but recovered quickly. They raised their weapons and shouted for them to stop. Rodney smiled smugly and walked forward. He never doubted for a moment they would be protected. That is until he felt the sharp pain of a bullet cutting through his thigh and fell to the ground, dragging injured friends in his wake.


	8. Chapter 8

Angela! You do know this chapter would be ridiculous rubbish without your marvellous input. You are so good to this fic, it has dedicated its life to you :)

**Notes:** I apologise for any confusion you might feel. Everything, or most of it, will be explained in greater details later (because that's just much more fun! Hurray!). I welcome your comments; it's a thrill to know what others think :) Thank you for reading!

**Part of a whole**

John had quickly gotten over his shock when the women had come to greet him. The need for civility was a great distraction. Within minutes, Oblee had left them with a cheeky, "play nice", following which he had been pushed into a chair and offered food and drink.

They all sat at the table, watching him. He felt needlessly self-conscious. These people looked just like him, he didn't have to impress them, charm them, please them. They were all in the same position.

"You folks lived here for a while?" Small talk. Small talk was good when you were facing yourself.

The moustache man answered. "I have lived here for eleven years."

"I for two."

"Five."

"Nine"

"Thirteen."

Thirteen! John couldn't be here for _thirteen_ years! He couldn't stay here for even one year! He had responsibilities, friends, a home! He needed to go back, within the week! Why was this always happening to him?

He fought against the rebellion his stomach was staging. He couldn't stay here; couldn't be separated from his people again. Only a few months had passed since the whole ascension cloister debacle. He wanted to get up and scream, punch, kick; destroy everything. It had hurt so much, to be left behind, to be without them for so long. His team, his soldiers, his scientists. Atlantis was his, as were all its inhabitants. He needed them. They were his energy. Thirteen years without them would be intolerable. He had grown so close to them, had shared so much. They had become family. He felt it, uncoiling deep within: the fear, the despair, the rage.

"Why are we here?" his voice was tight but did not falter.

"Oblee brought us here. We are pieces of a whole."

"What whole?"

"She will come back and explain it to you. It is not our place."

Sheppard waited, pacing his cage like an enraged animal. Doubtless, he was a prisoner. He walked the boundary of the forest, felt the power that prevented him from leaving it. A whole forest, miles and miles of terrain, formed their enclosure.

In the morning, he arose from a restless sleep. Thirteen years, Kiren had been here thirteen years. John had lived here a day and already he longed for freedom. He needed to know what had happened to Rodney, Teyla and Ronon. Were they alive? Had they been released? Death was not an option. It was inconceivable that they hadn't found a way to escape. He gripped that hope with both hands and pulled it to him. He would escape and find them.

None of the others could offer much encouragement. They had all tried to escape, to go back to their lives, to their families. Fruitless efforts. There was no way out of the forest. Once again, John was helpless, faced with uncontrollable circumstances.

On the second day, Oblee came. She sat with him and told him everything. About Banee, about the love she felt for him, the reason why she could not accept the punishment.

"He killed a man. It was an accident, a misunderstanding, but amongst my people, death is so rare. It is most despicable…to take a life. He was severed, as his our custom. Six pieces of his essence, the six senses. Separated and thrown to all corners of the universe."

John watched her as she spoke, head bent, gaze fixed to the floor. For the moment, she lived in her memories.

"It took eighty-four years to find the first one. Kiren, the sense of touch. He was of this galaxy, easier to find. Then I found Targus, he was hearing; Opal, sight; Minevry, scent; Nihel; taste. You are the core."

She raised her eyes to look at him. They were shining with the joy of a contented heart.

"I don't understand. The core of what? The six senses of what?"

"Banee. His essence was scattered. Ripped from his body and sent away through the Ring, one piece at a time. You and Nihel were the furthest ones. Finally, all of the pieces are together. Assemblage will soon be complete and Banee will be back, we will be together at last. After ninety-seven years, I have him; all the pieces, he will soon be whole again.

"I still don't understand. How am I the core?" He did understand, or thought he did, but it couldn't be true. They couldn't be what she claimed? Pieces? John Sheppard was not some murderer's part! He was a man! He had a life, a purpose, a meaning!

"You are his intuition, his feelings, his personality. All the others are components that formed him. You, you are the key."

John didn't want to be the key, not again. He just wanted to be himself. Not the Ancient gene carrier, not some essence vessel. Simply, John Sheppard. He had enough of all these demands; the need for him to be some shape of himself for everyone. A soldier, a leader, a freak-show Ancient descendant, a pilot, a perfect son, a rock for everyone to rely on. Couldn't they just accept him as he was! Couldn't they just let him be John Sheppard, just a man who did the best he could?

"You remind me most of him. You have his mannerism, his charm, his humour. It took so long to find you, in your galaxy, so far away. I had faith. All children eventually return to their place of origin and so did you. Mira, she is the outpost. I felt her when she saw you. I saw you through her."

"Mira?"

"Yes, she has appointed herself Celebrant, on her planet. It is quite remarkable that the people have not overthrown her. Though she is a pleasant enough woman, there is a thirst for power there that is unbecoming."

This was confusing, so very confusing.

"Why isn't she here? She's a piece."

Oblee laughed. "Oh no! No! She was my assistant. Before Banee left, I was a member of the High House on our world. When she saw how frail I had become from Banee's punishment, how it affected me, she tried to take over. As I said, thirst for power is unbecoming. I sent her to Banee's home planet to greet you, all of you, when you arrived."

"She looks like us."

"Yes, of course she does! I had to link her with you somehow. Now is not the time for me to explain Mira's position and many uses. I must go, I have been here much longer than anticipated and coincidently, I am to meet with Mira soon."

Hope came to him; hit him like a bold of lightning. "Can you ask about my team?"

"As I have told you before, your companions were unharmed."

She left him, bid her farewell to the occupants of the little house, and exited.

That had been two days ago and still, John couldn't process the information. He couldn't understand. Even after lengthy conversation with his roommates who had all tirelessly explained the situation, he couldn't face it. They were all vehicles! Just envelopes for some guy's soul! John Sheppard was nothing! His whole existence: nothing! He was here because somebody else had lived here, in this galaxy! He was just…

"A FUCKING CONTAINER!" He screamed out to the empty woods. Let all the anger, the confusion, the horror out. His life had been nothing but a series of events meant to lead him here, to destruction.

As he made his way back to the house, having once again established that he couldn't escape the forest, he felt a great rage beneath his skin. It streamed in his veins and filled him with thunderous energy. He wanted to lash out and obliterate anything that came along his path. See every tree fall to the ground, every life extinguished, and every single cell annihilated.

He wouldn't give up. He couldn't give up. He mattered! His life was important. The need to anchor his identity for any deity that might be listening made him scream until his throat ached.

"I'm John Sheppard. I'm John Sheppard. I'm JOHN SHEPPARD! YOU CAN'T TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME! I'M JOHN SHEPPARD! JOHN SHEPPARD!"

Banee could stay in pieces; no one was discarding John Sheppard so easily!


	9. Chapter 9

Yeah Angela! You're so great and grand, I'm right jealous!

**Confidence**

His heart sank in his chest faster than his body to the ground. He had been wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Again, his mistake would bring peril to their lives. He shouldn't have assumed anything! Rodney had been so relieved when he had thought of the shield. So happy that they had a way out, they could just walk to the gate and everything would be fine. He hadn't really thought it would not work!

The guards came and stood around them, grinning widely. They taunted them as they struggled to comply with their orders. Getting up when shot in the leg was a feat. Getting up in synchronicity with two other people who had also been shot in the leg was near impossible.

They were led to a granary, as had been asked by the Celebrant, and made to sit in the middle of the large circular room. It was made of wood, stood tall and was almost empty. A partial examination of their injuries had brought the conclusion that none were life threatening. One corpse per force field please! It also brought grounds for interrogations. Shouldn't they be bleeding, profusely? Small blessings, no matter how unnatural they be, were still welcomed.

Ronon could feel it crawling under his skin, his every instinct rebelling against this passivity. They were completely vulnerable. They had all been shot and now he thought McKay was beginning to crack under the pressure. Teyla was holding on, closing herself off to anything that did not pertain to their survival.

Immensely uncomfortable, he tried to shift his weight. He sat, John snug between him and Rodney. Ronon had tried to reason with him when he had seen Rodney gently cup the side of John's head and lean it on his shoulder. It had been an awful sight, Sheppard's head hanging limply backwards, his neck stretched, but it would not be painful to the man; it was only painful to them. Both he and Teyla had argued; let her sit by Sheppard. Let him support the weight of the lifeless soldier. All to no avail. The minute Ronon had reached for Sheppard's head, to carefully balance it on his own shoulder, McKay had snapped, told him to keep his large grubby paws to himself.

He looked for means of escape. It was his priority; saving himself, saving them. In this galaxy, no one ever stopped running, hiding, fighting and everyone learned to muddle through. Teyla and he could cope. He remembered telling her to thwart any distractions, concentrate on what could be used to survive. Anger was an ally if you allowed it to be. It was unwise to let pain weaken them.

Teyla took in her surroundings, occupying herself with what she knew: searching for means of survival, for ways to fight. Her train of thought closely followed Ronon's. Live Teyla, live to fight another day. Feed the pain that feeds the anger. Forget the bullet wound, forget the dead.

For the moment, she detailed the granary. Four guards stood at regular intervals. No grains to be had in this town. Why had they come here if not for food! These people had none. The basis, the one thing the Athosians had always kept was grain. They had been fools to come here, trust in the High House. Fools!

As Teyla's musings had paralleled Ronon's, Rodney's met hers on a perpendicular path. Fool! He was a damn fool! What had he ever done but get them in trouble! He was useless to this team, so useless! He had gotten them shot. His low threshold for pain had long been broken. It burned. Burned! How funny was that! They didn't know, they didn't know the only way to make it burn was to shoot. Shoot, and fire would spread! He let out a hollow laugh.

"Rodney?"

Control, stay in control! This is not the time to lose it, McKay!

"Um?" He met Teyla's enquiring gaze and smiled tightly. "Just thinking."

That's it; no one wants a crazy scientist on their hands. You know what Sheppard would – NO! Don't think about Sheppard, don't think at all.

His throat constricted, his eyes watered but he held it in. He wanted to wail, to scream but held it all in. He could feel Sheppard's head, limp against his shoulder and he moved his hand so it would rest upon his friend's. That's what he had done earlier, on the platform. Rodney could do the same, offer comfort. Comfort to a dead man. He laughed again, a savage bark that escaped him.

Voices came from outside, preventing Teyla from asking, preventing Rodney from breaking. ,

"She has gone too far! Her quest has blinded her! Innocents! She has forsaken innocents!"

"They are here, in the granary. We have been told they are still alive."

"Of course they are still alive! Have you no sense, boy!

The guards shuffled nervously but did not leave their post. The door opened with a loud bang and a tall man strode in. He had longish red hair, sparkling green eyes and a stature demanding respect. He was of a venerable age but held none of the frailty that comes with an abundance of years. He walked to the captive sitting in the middle of the room. Dismissing the guards without a glance, he instructed them to stand outside the building and wait.

He stood and observed the four occupants of the granary. He took in Teyla's cold and appraising stare, Rodney's scared but defiant features, John's slack body and Ronon's fierce eyes. His face remained impassive.

"Who are you?"

"Who are you!" McKay answered aggressively, nearing the end of his rope, so close to losing control on his overwrought emotions.

"I am Lokas. I have come for you."

"Come for us! Oh great! What are _you_ going to do to us, umm? You want to kill us, after all these attempts! One out of four isn't bad but really, I've seen better odds on other worlds!"

Teyla pressed a hand to his and he fell silent, to let her speak. "On whose behalf have you come?"

"The one you know as the Celebrant. She informed me of your situation. It has gone too far, it is now beyond her control. I have come to send you home."

"Good. Let's go." Ronon signalled for Rodney and Teyla to get up.

The man stepped back and let them get to their feet. To their great surprise, he did not speak any further simply preceding them to the door.

"Guards. You will forget what you have seen today." He raised his hand to their eye level and a ring shone out to them.

The guards answered as one "Yes, Sir."

Teyla, Rodney and Ronon found themselves once again on their way to the gate. It was slow and painful but they kept up with the man's long purposeful strides. They followed him silently albeit distrustfully. The village seemed deserted but as they passed the building where they had first seen the Celebrant, they could hear a familiar chant. Mass.

Teyla couldn't help the doubts that crept into her mind. How could it be, after everything that had transpired, that this man would simply take them to the gate. It could be a trick but they had nothing to lose. This was a time for trust. She was not cynical; she could still have faith in her fellow man. Teyla gave herself up to that faith and concentrated on more important things; namely a certain doctor who was much too quiet at her side.

I don't even want to know. Rodney was perfectly happy to go along, follow this man and wait for the other shoe to drop. He didn't even care. He was tired of these conflicting emotions. Too much fear had been spent, first on the fire, then on Sheppard. Oh God Sheppard. Rodney had to hold his limp form tightly against him to prevent it from pulling him down. He tried to ignore it but it was difficult as every step he took carried the both of them. How do you ignore such a thing! Knowing he had to, he waited for the moment when they would be able to turn off this force field and he'd go, collapse in a dark corner of Atlantis. Let this mission pour out of him. It always worked. Have a little breakdown, or a massive one, see Heightmeyer for a few sessions and get back to work. Every time someone died, it was the same story. This wouldn't be any different. Sheppard was just another soldier. He wasn't anything to write home about. Giving a decisive nod, Rodney pushed away any feelings and thought only of the problem at hand: the force field. Sheppard was probably rotting in hell and he didn't care! He really didn't care!

"Hey you in front! Are you familiar with this field holding us together?"

The man answered without looking back. "Yes." A moment's silence followed.

"Oh for the love of…what do you know about it!"

"Not here. I will explain when we have reached the Ring."

Which they did, two hours later. They slumped to the ground, their injured legs begging for a reprieve from the strain of the exercise. Rodney glared up at the man and spoke in his rudest tone.

"Well! The force field?"

Then man stood, towering over them. "It is designed to preserve the body. You should not have been included, should not have been protected by its power."

Ronon did not like the sound of that at all. "We should've died in the fire."

The man had the grace to look sheepish. "Yes. Not through malice! It is a necessity!"

"Well, that's just fine then! I would gladly die a painful burning death if it wasn't demanded of me through malice! That changes everything! Thank you so much for your kindness! Would you like for us to wait here with you until we get out of the field and you can try again! I'm sure we'll burn easy! We haven't had any fluids in a while; we should be nice and dry. It shouldn't take long too –"

"Rodney!" Teyla had to rein him in again.

Lokas went on as though Rodney hadn't spoken. He understood their anger but there was nothing he could do, except to inform them. He took a deep breath and plunged, wanting to get the unpleasantness of it all behind him. "The one that has passed should've been alone in the veil. It is intended for the body only. I have never witnessed this before. Its primary function is to preserve the body for the period required by the loving to bid farewell and release the essence to the higher planes."

He began pacing as he spoke, his gaze lost in the horizon. "Your life is not in danger whilst you are in the veil. You will not feel hunger, or thirst. You will not be harmed by natural occurrences. I can see you have been injured and can only assume it was by man-made forces, evil intent. You are at rest. Your body is suspended between time. It will not age, will not change until the time you are released."

That made sense, explained why they weren't hungry, why they weren't bleeding, why Sheppard's skin was still tinged with the pink of vitality.

"There are certain happenings which have come to my attention. I do not know how it will affect you, or the one who has passed. For now, I can only assure you of your safety."

"How long are we to stay like this?"

"The veil has a minimum duration of fifteen suns. I cannot affirm with conviction that it is the case here. It could be longer."

"How much longer?"

"Much longer. The veil has sometimes been used by the grieving as a way to keep their loved ones near for too long a time. It is inadvisable, frowned upon, but it has been done."

"We could be like this for life." Ronon despised the thought. The sweet taste of freedom had been returned to him by Doctor Beckett when he extracted the Wraith's device. He had no wish for it to turn bitter again.

"You might never die, trapped within the veil…"

As the repercussion of that statement found its way inside, to squeeze the hearts of the team, a tall, muscular, black-haired boy came running.

The boy, who was certainly nearing the age of maturity, stopped a few steps from the red-haired man. "Lokas. We must go, the Celebrant is ready and she will speak."

Lokas turned to the three sitting colleagues. "I must go. I wish I could speak with you longer. "

"No no no no! You can't go! You need to tell us what happened! What are we going to do?"

"Come. In seven suns, come through this Ring. I will be waiting. Now you must return to your world." He turned and left with the boy.

They got to their feet, slowly, pain hampering their movements. They walked to the DHD and dialled the gate. They found their way to the Alpha Site, knowing they would find the means to communicate their presence to Atlantis.

It was a concerned Elizabeth that awaited them on the other side of the wormhole. They were early, though overdue for check in by a few hours. Due to the distance between the village and the gate, it had not been too hard on Elizabeth's nerve. She had faith in their abilities.


	10. Chapter 10

**Contemplation**

The night brought loneliness. He was surrounded, but so alone.

John turned on his bed to lie on his stomach, right hand hidden under the pillow, palm against the bed. Snoring came from the bunk above his, from the one on the left and the one on the right. A loud cacophony of breath.

He missed Rodney's snores. At times so loud, they'd wake him up. The whining sounds he made when he was uncomfortable. You only had to pat him a little and he would settle down, or wake up suddenly and glare at you, demanding to know what your problem was.

He missed Ronon's vicious kicks. Ok, maybe he didn't miss the kicks per say, just the idea of them. The lack of space that came with the big man offset by the sense of complete security he provided.

He missed Teyla's quiet slumber. Her moans too if he had to be honest. She was ever so free in sleep, stretching languidly, allowing herself to be small and delicate. Restful, giving permission to relish in the pleasure of relaxation.

He missed Atlantis' gentle hum.

Only under the cover of darkness would he allow himself to be so pathetic as to cling to the thoughts of his friends' slumber. He wondered if they knew these things about him. Wondered if they ever watched over him when he slept.

John turned over thinking he probably wouldn't get any rest tonight. Every day brought new challenges to his peace of mind. Overcome by rage at first, it had now settled into resentment. His roommates helped him. They shared stories of their own arrival, coming to grips with a new sense of self. They all had the same worries now. The Assemblage day was approaching. Soon, Oblee would come to explain the process. John listened but never spoke to them and they had come to realise he would not welcome friendly advice. They shared with him and respected him in his silence as well as in the screams they heard sometimes, coming from the forest.

He hadn't trained for this. He had trained for torture, for interrogation. He had trained to sustain pain, never give under duress.

He hadn't trained for resistance against happy women who were only trying to be reunited with their partner. He didn't know what to do. He didn't believe in gratuitous violence. This procedure was a threat to him, but Oblee was not. She was a kind woman who couldn't see the error of her ways.

She wanted Banee back so fiercely that it blinded her. The others had tried to explain how it affected them before he was brought here. Screaming in fury. Crying in despair. Speaking in calm acceptance. She couldn't understand, wouldn't understand.

It was a familiar concept, longing for someone you cared for. All of the occupants of the house longed for loved ones. Mostly, they longed for their selves, lost in a barrage of doubts.

John hovered between two states. One of confidence in his self-worth and one of complete belief in the futility of the life he had led.

Tonight, he clung to confidence. His life has meant something. The last two years alone had been full of experiences. Some had enriched his person, some had robbed it of its vigour, but all had meant something. Tonight, he knew who he was and longed to be with the people who could accept it.

Closing his eyes, he willed sleep to come, unaware that light years away in a darkened room someone watched over him as he lay in complete stillness.


	11. Chapter 11

Angela, you are the Queen of all betas (and so many other great things that are too numerous to list)!

**Notes:** I apologise for this overly sentimental detour, we will get back to regular programming in the next chapter :) Thank you for reading and feel free to comment!

**Perception**

Rodney couldn't sleep.

His head was filled with random images of the not so distant past. Unrelenting, his brain brought back memories in which a certain Colonel held the lead. He'd tried to initiate a shutdown by closing his eyes and regulating his breathing, but he remained conscious. He'd recited the alphabet and the beer song, counted up in even then down in odd numbers and had gone so far as to categorise the flavours of ice cream he liked by food group and colour. Dull stuff that didn't help at all. Nothing worked.

Rodney definitely couldn't sleep.

At least, during the day, he managed to forget everything; partaking in the experiments they were conducting on the force field. He'd established, with Zelenka's help, that it was permeable solely by gas. Anything else just made its way to the floor; synthetics, water, alloy, electricity. Ronon had offered the hypothesis that this particularity was meant to allow the occupants to breathe. That was preposterous, corpses didn't need to breathe. Nevertheless, the fact that oxygen did make it through to them was great. Breathing was great.

They'd tried throwing bullets through it since shooting was out of the question. Rodney had suggested that perhaps the speed at which the bullets from the guards had collided with the field allowed them to penetrate it. It was a possibility they were unwilling to verify. The thrown bullets had hit the field before falling to the floor. Teyla had noted that perhaps Lokas had been correct when he'd spoken of evil intent. Somehow, throwing bullets in a nice slow arc was not evil enough. It was amusing to Czech doctors who liked to pretend they were Babe Ruth, but completely harmless and unproductive.

Since sleep was elusive and his chosen distractions ineffective, Rodney spoke quietly to John's body. "This is your fault Sheppard. I'm tired, let me sleep!"

He waited, to recreate the cadence that had always characterised their verbal exchanges. "This is all _your_ fault. If you hadn't been there, we wouldn't be stuck in this thing…"

He paused, letting the silence fill in for his usual partner. "In fact, if you hadn't been here at all we would be much safer and saner, you know that right?" He scowled at him and continued his one-sided conversation.

"You woke the Wraith. You died. You pissed off Kolya, which in itself is not a bad thing. You activated the necklace with the Wraith transmitter and I got a stunner shot in the face. I was paralysed! Paralysed, Sheppard!" Rodney sighed deeply but found that now he had started he was unable to stop. He had things to say.

"You went up against a Super Wraith and almost got us both killed. Gaul _died_ so we would live. He would've probably died regardless but…he shot his brains out for _you_. I swear I saw brain! That great mind, stuck to the inside of a Wraith ship…I died back there with him, and I can assure you I wish I really had when I saw the Wraith coming at you. Ok, that's not exactly true, but it was terrifying! Then there was Chaya! What a precious moment we shared there. Made me realise I was just an encumbrance to you. That_ you_, big shot Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, didn't give a _damn_ what I thought." There, he'd said it! The man it was intended for would never know, but Rodney had said it!

"You died _again_ blowing yourself upSo long Rodney! What the hell was that! You can't say 'so long' as if you're going on vacation and then blow yourself up…with _my_ bomb! You just can't stop, can you? You die all the time! You have to be self-sacrificial because you're not enough of a hero yet, is that it?"

Teyla was listening; struck dumb by the darkness Rodney was unleashing. She felt like she was stealing from him, taking in his private thoughts, but she felt the urge to listen, just as he felt the urge to talk.

"You left me hanging from a tree, in the middle of the night, with a dangerous man. Granted, Ronon is not exactly dangerous to us but you didn't know that. Cadman was in my head and you thought I was crazy. You gave me that look when we met in the hall. I must've appeared weird but would it have killed you to pretend I wasn't? I know how it works between us but it was a really hard time for me! Didn't you see that? I'm not a machine and I hate that you don't care! I realised we weren't really friends. I realised I expected too much."

His voice dropped to a murmur as he continued to unload month's worth of memories. Teyla felt like a voyeur but she was mesmerised by his perception of the peculiar relationship between McKay and Sheppard.

"We were shot down by those prisoners and you believed that murderer. You trusted him more than me. You believed those things he said, you believed I would let you die to set myself up as a hero. You thought I was lying! I wasn't! I didn't think it would work! I wouldn't put you in danger for heroics, no matter how much you think I crave recognition!"

He fell silent as though drained from the outpour of words. Teyla thought it strange, that he recalled looks, meaningless words and what seemed like insignificance. There had been much bigger issues between the two men, but one never knows what lies in the heart. She closed her eyes, intent on forgetting about this night, but he spoke once more.

"You withheld your trust completely when I made a mistake. A big one. A big, big one, but a mistake nonetheless. You'll never know how negligible I felt. I understand your reaction but it doesn't make it any less of a slap in the face. You dismissed me so…cavalierly, as if it was a trivial matter."

Once again, he fell silent. His following words shocked Teyla tremendously. She decided that wiping this night from her memory would be the wisest choice. To preserve the unity of the team Ronon, Rodney and herself still formed.

"I hate you." His voice broke. He broke. Fisting his hands, he struggled to control his breathing as his face distorted in a pained expression.

"I hate you so much, and you make it so easy. I wish you had never sat in the Chair. I wish you weren't here, we'd never met. I don't like this…John…I don't want to be with people, care what they think, miss them when they're gone." He ran a hand over his crumpled features and regained control, seemingly recognizing what he had been saying to the man he considered his best friend, in spite of everything.

"I'm sorry. So sorry I failed you. I didn't mean those things, not really. It's just so much easier to hate you right now. What am I supposed to do? No death ever has or ever will hurt this much. Do you get that? Atlantis can fall, the whole galaxy can be fed on by the Wraith and not one of those deaths will hurt as much as this…you're like…you're family to me."

Teyla felt tears fall from her eyes and she held the sob that threatened to escape. This was hurting her too. She felt in tandem with him; as he spoke, she ached.

"How could you abandon me like that? How can you abandon us? What do you think we're going to do now? We're going to fall apart! You know you're the nucleus! You know you're the most important part of this team. Damn it, John! How can you be dead!"

Silence fell on the room, oppressive and depressive. Teyla let the tears fall, taking care to swallow any sounds that would reveal her indiscretion. Rodney mustn't know she had witnessed this.

Ronon, on the other hand, had heard quite enough and was not above making it known. He'd been listening, but didn't believe Rodney had meant any of the meaner things he had said. McKay was a valued member of their team, surely he knew that. He'd have to be an idiot to believe Sheppard thought him anything else than an honourable man, to believe that he wasn't Sheppard's family. He probably just needed an outlet; had thought them asleep and let his mouth run, unthinking. "McKay, shut up and sleep. Enough with your whining!"

There was a sharp intake of breath, but no answer. Following his intervention Ronon fell asleep rapidly, satisfied McKay would settle for the night.

Teyla had nearly slipped into the forgiving arms of sleep when she heard the last weary words of the morbid confession.

"You can't be dead. I won't let you…"


	12. Chapter 12

Once again, standing ovation for Angela!

**Notes:** Very small, hidden, a wink of a spoiler for Epiphany. We're back on track, I sincerely hope you'll enjoy!

**Surrender**

Today was the day he, John Sheppard, would cease to exist.

Not that he cared, really. He didn't want to exist as the organic equivalent of a Tupperware and with the knowledge that he did not deserve this life. He knew if he lived, he would feel like a fraud and resentment would only serve to bitter him. How did you retain a sense of self when you knew, you _knew,_ you were naught but a shell. A pale copy of a much-loved man. He could rage, he could deny it until his last breath; it would never change the fact. He was nothing. He couldn't face a life of self-doubt. Hell, he'd known what he truly was for a week and already he was becoming a neurotic mess.

No, better to allow Banee to return; it was meant to be.

Oblee had vaguely explained to them what was to happen. She'd admitted she didn't know much about the effects of the process, but that she could make educated guesses. He hoped she made the McKay kind of guesses because those usually turned out well. Usually.

They were to be assembled and be blessed with the unending repose, as Oblee had poetically put it. In Sheppard terms, it meant they'd give what they had and go bye-bye. In re-engineering the device used to create the force field he and his team had found themselves in, Oblee assumed she would be able to gently ease the essence parts from them. The assurance that it would be painless had left them utterly uncomforted. Somehow, it had not held the ring of truth. She could _ease_ to her heart's content, it wouldn't make it easy on the concerned parties. Concerned parts. On them!

They made their way through the forest, Oblee in the lead walking hurriedly.

Like lambs to the slaughter. Or rather like cans to the compactor; emptied of their content and ready to be destroyed. The 'Banabees', as John called their little gang in what he thought a clever play on words, were speaking amongst themselves. He lagged behind, lost in thoughts.

Never again would he be able to experience the enjoyments life brought. Flying and the exhilaration of defying gravity, of going up into space. Exploring new worlds and experiencing things so few on Earth ever would. Living in the lost city of Atlantis! Making friends with aliens. Real, honest to god, non-green, very reassuringly human aliens! Befriending so many different people from various places. Czech Republic, Scotland, Thailand, Greece, Poland, Argentina, Bali, Egypt, England, New Zealand, Canada.

Friends. He'd never see them again and was glad it would not concern him much longer. He'd already spent six months away from them not so long ago and what a number that little adventure had played on his psyche! Even though this separation had been much shorter, his throat tightened and he didn't try to fight the tinge of depression that coloured his eyes. John didn't know when he had started needing these people, wanting to know them. Unfortunately, it had happened and he now had to suffer the consequences. He'd only ever lost people through death. It was a familiar concept, he knew how to deal, how to move on, but this was different. They were alive, somewhere out there, probably looking for him. It was regrettable that he would most likely never be found. Still, he was comforted by the simple fact that they were searching.

Elizabeth would stay strong, the veneer would not crack. Interesting how they had slowly adapted to each other. A little cautiousness had passed from her to him. She risked more, he risked less. She would risk a lot for him and Ronon would push for more. He was loyal and wouldn't hesitate to do whatever it took. He and Teyla offset each other so well. Ronon would be in relentless pursuit, shoving anything that got in his way while Teyla would evaluate the situation and take the path most likely to lead to victory. Vigorous and fierce Ronon, persuasive and refined Teyla. Their mere presence brought security to John's life; a rare occurrence in this world where saving your own was the prime directive. Carson had to be the one who upheld this the most. Save your own. In his case, it was simply save, no matter who or what they may be. The man had wanted to help a Wraith! That spoke volumes of a person's character. Of course, putting up with Rodney's hypochondriac antics was enough to prove how strongly he believed in the Hippocratic Oath.

John worried about Rodney, about his obsessive need to…to what? Why was it that his gigantic amount of self-importance shrivelled to a mere need for sustenance when the lives of his people where at stake? He'd forget to eat, to sleep, to do anything but the set task. This time, the task was most likely to find John. He hoped someone dragged him away from his work once in a while. Ah, he had a great team; they'd stick together and drag him to the mess.

Stick together. They sure had experienced it in the literal sense on that platform. Waking up cuddled to McKay was an experience he would rather forget. He ran a hand through his hair and pulled sharply on a few strands in the hopes of driving away the doubts that assailed him. God, he hoped they were alive. Please, let them be alive! They had to be!

Whilst he had been trudging through his brooding thoughts, they had made great progress on their trek and were nearing the edge of the forest. Oblee stopped and reached her hand out to the field that prevented them from leaving. She seemed to grab only air but as she pulled, a slight swish could be heard. Letting go, she turned to them, a beaming smile upon her face.

"Kiren, I am sure you will be glad to see more of this world."

"Indeed I will Oblee. Our accommodations have been most pleasing, but I was a hunter, used to travel regularly." He looked down sheepishly, "I must admit I have missed it."

Oblee reached out and stroked his cheek in a motherly fashion. John couldn't believe how deeply disturbing that was. She thought it acceptable that they would have to give their lives despite the fact she had come to regard the earliest arrivals as close friends. Whenever he raised the question of the dubiousness of her actions, she simply said that their lives had never been theirs to begin with. What was he to say, it was true! Still, it upset him to see his life finish like this, to know he had never been genuinely alive or with a purpose, other than give his soul back.

Oblee was going to kill them and had convinced the others that this was a good thing, that it was praiseworthy. Hell, she'd managed to get sympathy from John. The problem was, she was not doing this out of malevolence but out of her love for Banee and he had a little problem hating her for it.

How confusing could this get! He knew it was wrong, he knew he wanted to live, yet he had no wish to do so with the knowledge he had garnered here. He was John Sheppard and no one could dispute that fact, but John Sheppard was only a pale copy of Banee. If he were to escape, in a great show of miraculous intervention, would he be able to forget what he was, would he be able to quell his anger, his doubts and go on? He couldn't fight something he believed. He was nothing. As such, it was only right that he would fade away.

He followed them out of the forest into a flowered field in which five contraptions encircled a sixth one. They looked like incubators but were oval-shaped. Funny really, incubators that looked like oversized clear eggs. They were linked each to the neighbouring and all to the middle, the core. He knew where he was going and his stomach tried its metaphorical hand at rebellion again.

"These are the devices of which I have spoken. They will allow me to release Banee's essence and perform the assemblage." She clapped her hand together in glee. "Banee will return! I could never fully express the joy you are bringing to my life."

To John's surprise, Targus laid a hand on her shoulder and spoke. "It is our pleasure to contribute to this joyous event. You know we have come to care for your plight and believe it is our fate."

"I know, Targus, and I am grateful. I will finally return to my life, as it was before Banee was exiled, and you will have fulfilled your destiny. This is cause for rejoicing!"

John wouldn't go as far as rejoicing anytime soon, but he'd be glad when this was over. Wanting to get away from yourself _because_ you were no longer yourself was distressing and extremely confusing. He watched Oblee walk around the devices and open them. The top seemed to collapse on itself and disappeared to allow an opening to form. She verified the connections between the devices. Once it was done, she approached them, with a spring in her step.

"Come. It is ready. Come!"

Beckoning to them, she walked to the closest device.

"Kiren! Please, come."

Kiren hesitated. Afraid, now that the moment had come to give his life for a man he would never know. He looked to them with uncertain eyes. Targus smiled and nodded, as did Opal. Minervry moved her hand in what John knew to be the equivalent of 'thumbs up'. Nihel frowned and John remained stoic. What was he to do? He was afraid too. He was torn. The insanity had to stop one way or another.

Kiren stepped closer to the device and prodded it tentatively. It gave under the pressure but normalised when it was taken away.

"Do not worry Kiren, the Sancta cannot harm you!" She stood behind him and put her hands on his shoulder. "You must disrobe and take your place."

He nodded and proceeded as instructed. Oblee went to a small console standing beside the middle device. Kiren was meant to be standing in the anatomical position while the incubator material shifted and moulded itself to enclose him, like a second skin. He panicked and struggled but was quickly overpowered, frozen in a restless pose; a strange effigy.

John knew his stomach had called for reinforcement as a pounding headache came to intensify his apprehension. He didn't need his body to tell him this was all kinds of wrong. Kiren's eyes continued to blink rapidly. He was conscious and terrified.

"Targus! Proceed to the Sancta please!"

They each took place in their intended device, wide terrified eyes blinking dazedly, and before long John was left alone with Oblee. She hadn't left her post at the console nor did she do so when he refused to go. She simply turned to him with a sympathetic look, but then she spoke her voice held a hint of exasperation.

"John. How can you refuse? It is your destiny! The only purpose you have. The reason you are alive, the reason you are here! We have discussed this already! I understand your reticence, but you would only be living a lie. This is not your life to lead! Surely you must see you are negligible in the grand scheme of the universe."

"I know." She was right. Even if he did attempt to leave and return to Atlantis he would live with the certitude that he was not meant to be. By keeping the essence, he would be killing Banee. How could he dictate who had the right to exist? He carried Banee's life inside. It had never been his; he had no claim to it.

"Please John, it is time…"


	13. Chapter 13

Rejoice, for Angela was here!

**Notes:** There's one or two curse words in there, sorry! Thank you so much for reading and commenting! It's a right thrill to know what you think :) Really, it is, I get pathetically giddy every time!

**Dissent**

The past seven days had felt like years to Ronon. Inactivity was the bane of his existence. Lie here, sit there; submit to the science team's tests. They knew very little concerning the field and even less of their condition. Beckett was greatly concerned, unable to examine them properly, resorting to observing and questioning them every day.

They'd laid mattresses on the floor in one of the labs so they could sleep. McKay had insisted they stay there to allow him to conduct the experiments on the field. This had the added bonus that they did not have to walk back and forth from quarters to lab. The pain from the bullet wound had receded but having to carry Sheppard made his demise undeniable.

McKay had tried to wake him, playfully jabbing him, before he remembered the Colonel wasn't sleeping and hadn't _that_ been a pleasant day. Unsettling silence had befallen only to be disrupted by McKay's enraged shouting directed at anyone who dared venture in the lab. He never spoke to Ronon or Teyla, not one word despite their insistence, and since then he seemed trapped in a spiral of fury no one could abate.

At least today, they had a purpose. The meeting with Lokas would surely lay many questions to rest. Teyla was hopeful that soon, they would be able to put this behind them. Regain their freedom and have the time to mourn their loss. She ached for the men she had come to regard as family, as well as for herself. All three of them were private individuals and would not allow themselves to shatter until they were alone in their own private corner of the world. Vulnerability was undesirable; hence, they played the game of resilience. She looked at the man standing directly next to her. He was losing.

"Are we going! Why are we standing here like a bunch of random technicians! Are you waiting for Sheppard's orders?" Rodney placed is palm under Sheppard's chin, curling his fingers to press his cheeks so his mouth would move and he appeared to speak. "Major Lorne, move out you jackass!"

Lorne glared at Rodney as he walked pass and snapped, "Move out."

Rodney made to follow but he was the only one to attempt a step, thus stayed rooted to the spot. He turned to Teyla who wore a severe expression.

"You should not have done that. It was disrespectful to the Colonel and to us all."

"Teyla, maybe you've never noticed this about me, but I'm a bastard. I don't fucking care, and in his present state, I doubt very much the Colonel will object. Now, are we going?"

"Yes." Ronon, smart man, did not want to aggravate the scientist further. He shook his head minutely to stop Teyla from pursuing the matter. She fell silent and they dematerialized from the Atlantis gate room.

They emerged from the gate to find a distressed Lokas speaking with Lorne. A further investigation of the surrounding area allowed Ronon to see the Celebrant, standing in between two guards.

"What is she doing here?" Threatening, defiant, angered. Not the emotions you wanted to rouse in a man as big as he was.

Lokas turned to him and raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "She means you no harm."

"Excuse me! Do you see this?" Rodney indicated his shielded group with a jerk of his head.

"It was a mistake! You should not have been included in the veil!" The Celebrant said pleadingly, drawing closer to them.

"Oh that's right! We should've died!"

"Not by my choice!" The pleading look morphed into a sneer.

"How comforting!" Rodney had practically roared those two little words. He was enraged. Everything and everyone could incur his wrath.

Concerned and exasperated, Dr. Beckett had told him many times to calm down; upsetting himself would only aggravate his hypertensive body. Rodney responded with loud abrasive words and personal insults clearly unconcerned with his blood pressure. Beckett couldn't blame him and always left troubled and apologetic. Elephant dosage of sedatives and blows to the head had been mentioned incrementally by various members of staff but neither Teyla nor Ronon had spoken of McKay's momentary forgetfulness. They hadn't said they understood why he harangued everyone who came near; hadn't pointed out that it was simply a defence mechanism, though after so much time spent in his company, the people who mattered knew.

Lokas came to stand between an irate Rodney and haughty Celebrant.

"Mira, we have more pressing matters!" He turned to the team and clasped his hand together in a silent plea. "What I have to tell you is not exactly pleasant." He took a deep breath, his eyes closed, gathering courage to tell these people something they could never be expected to understand. "You friend is not truly dead but he very well might be if we do not hurry."

"That's it! Let's go home! He's obviously senile! I have better things to do than be here with these delusional people. We're done here, Lorne, dial the gate!"

"Please do not interrupt. Time is of the essence." He clapped his hand to his mouth as if he had said a lewd word.

Mira gave him an amused look. "Lokas!"

"I apologise, a very poor choice of word indeed! We must hurry. I have learned of the whereabouts of your companion and it is imperative that we go now to retrieve him. He carries the essence of my sister's intended and she has been allowed to work towards his assemblage for much too long. "

He frowned at Mira who cowered minutely under the stare. "I have told you many times that it was done unwillingly on my part. She forced my hand!"

"I know, Mira. Though you should've spoken earlier, at the present time it is irrelevant. Now, we must go, for it will take us the better part of the day to reach our destination."

"We must ask for further explanation. How is it that you affirm Colonel Sheppard to be alive when his body has lain with us for many days?" Teyla didn't want to believe him. False hopes had never faired well on the mourning path.

"That is only the physical representations of the one you call Sheppard. He is very much alive, on a known world. As I have said, we must hurry. I shall be most pleased to answer any questions you might have after we have retrieved all the individuals who carry the essence.

"What the hell are you talking about? What essence and what does Sheppard have to do with it!"

"Please, place your trust in us. We will take you to him. Follow."

Mira went to dial the gate and Lokas beckoned them to follow. Ronon shrugged, Teyla nodded and McKay glared.

"Perhaps we should do as he asks. If he can lead us to the Colonel…"

This was too much for McKay's fragile control. "What are you talking about, Teyla! Have you all gone insane! Sheppard is right here and he'd dead! He's been dead for the past week. I've been sleeping, sitting, working and being bored beside his body for a week! HE'S BEEN DEAD FOR A WEEK!" He breathed in deeply, his eyes clenched shut. "Let's just go back home and wait for this damn force field to disappear!"

He was so angry. His skin was flushed, his eyes shone brightly and he shook Sheppard's body, though it hardly moved, being tightly held by Ronon. Teyla wanted to reach out to him but she knew he wouldn't accept any form of comfort, just as he had rejected her this past week, had rejected everyone. Ronon roughly gripped the enraged man's wrist, where it grasped Sheppard's shoulder, and spoke firmly. "Enough."

Lokas took a step closer to them. "I assure you, we are being truthful. What you hold against you is not your friend. It is solely his physical representation. "

"I don't know how it works for you but in my world, when the physical representation of someone stops moving, breathing and generally functioning, it means they are dead. Look, this here, it's a corpse, a body, a cadaver. It's dead. There's nothing there! It's dead! It's not Sheppard, it's just matter, and if it wasn't for this field it'd be decaying right now, so don't tell me he's not dead when I can clearly see he is!" Rodney turned to Teyla and she flinched under the hatred in his glare. "Tell him he's dead, Teyla! Tell him!"

He waited for her to speak. When she didn't, he attempted to shake her as he had done with Sheppard. "Tell him! Tell him he's dead! Don't just stand there looking at me like that! Tell him he's dead so we can get the hell off this planet, get the hell out of this shield and get rid of Sheppard!"

She could only steel herself, reach out and rest a hand on his back as he came undone. He wouldn't want that. He wouldn't want this outburst to go on much longer, to have everyone know how tenuous his control really was, so she spoke gently, if a bit harshly, in the hopes that he would calm down.

"Rodney, stop! I will not allow you to speak to me this way any longer! We will go with Lokas because we have nothing to lose! Do you understand?"

His face hardened and he truculently jutted out his chin. "Damn it! Damn you, Teyla! Do you have to be so high and mighty all the time! I'm not going anywhere with him! Sheppard's dead! Are you too much of an idiot to see that! Did you miss the signs! The stillness, the non-breathing! God! I'm surrounded by a bunch of morons! I thought you were better than that! Even Ronon can see Sheppard's dead!"

"I've told you before McKay, quit your whining! You'll shut up and move or I'll make you!" Ronon eyes were dark and his voice threatening. He wanted to rage just as much as Rodney, but it would serve no purpose. If there was a chance they could find their leader alive, he just had to take it. If Lokas was a foe and it brought them to their deaths, at least they would know they died with honour, having done all that was possible for the man who would do the same for them.

"Fine! Gang up on me! If Sheppard were here, he'd say this was a crazy plan and tell you all to go to hell!"

"He's not here and you forget too easily. Sheppard loves crazy plans and he never leaves anyone behind. _He's_ behind, right now." Ronon knew it was unproductive to think they'd find him, it could bring only pain, but he hoped nonetheless. He had lost too many friends to refuse pursuing this possibility.

Rodney's shoulder slumped as he recognised that Ronon did not make threats idly. "Fine! Stuck in a shield with a dead guy and two degenerates, obviously that doesn't make my life unpleasant enough! Of course not! What could we do to make it truly horrid? Oh, I know! Let's all ignore the BODY and go LOOK for the dead guy!"

"McKay! I **will** hurt you!" Ronon squeezed Rodney's shoulder with slightly more pressure than was necessary and succeeded in putting a term to the man's tirade.

They followed Lokas unaware that beyond the gate the soil they stepped on carried a bizarre contraption. John stood in this device, as still as his corpse, watching versions of himself die, piece by piece.


	14. Chapter 14

**Termination**

Never could he have imagined something as horrific as this. John was powerless, caught in this strange incubator, unable to move because of the clear material that had plastered itself against him. They'd been in these machines for hours. Hours spent staring at wide expressive eyes in unmoving faces; eyes that saw death as it claimed Kiren and Targus, beyond his field of vision.

John stared for what seemed like forever, waiting for any indication that the essence they carried had been taken. He watched as they appeared. Little tiny cuts all over Opal's nude body. As they continued to emerge, he noticed they were not cuts but fragments of her body being sucked away. He realised that they were enclosed not only by the clear material of the Sancta, but also by a rounded shield. Pieces of Opal left her body by a clear tube, travelled its length, hit the shield, and fell around her.

Opal's eyes were impossibly wide and locked on him. Knowing she could feel the piece of her shoulder leaving her body and feel the blood trail down her skin, John tried to convey his support. By looking at her intently, he tried to tell her he was sorry, he wanted to help, she didn't deserve this. Eyes could speak, but not that eloquently, so he settled for holding her horrified gaze.

All he could think was that this would happen to him; he would feel his body literally flying away. How ironic was it that the pilot would die in flight but remain firmly on the ground. Not what he had envisioned when he'd said he'd be happy to die defying gravity.

It took an eternity for Opal to disappear completely. By that time, he did not think of her as a person anymore, she had become only a body, a carrier, just as he was. He saw the essence, a deep forest green puff that came to him through the tubing and mingled with the senses that had been eased from Kiren and Targus. _Eased_. Right. The clear material of Opal's incubator regained its normal shape, no longer having a body to mould itself to, filled with fluids and floating pieces of flesh, tissues and bones. Filled with a…mush…that had been Opal. Such a gentle woman. She had been so kind to John, supportive and understanding. He hadn't said much to her, hadn't cared to befriend any of the others. He had been selfish; missing his home, his friends; fixated on what he'd lost to avoid the bond that couldn't help but be formed.

Friends could only bring you pain, he'd reasoned. Seeing them suffer was painful. Being without them was painful. Knowing you had never told them how truly valued they were; agonisingly painful.

People were a liability, a limitation. That's what he'd been told and held to be true but as much as he tried to hide it, John cared. It was an intricate part of him; something his grandfather had said was a great force; something everyone else had said was a weakness. He had a city full of weaknesses and a head full of memory in the form of people he had come to regard as family. A whole city of military and civilians to care for.

It was Minevry's turn. He watched her too as, bit by bit, she truly became nothing, not only in spirit but in substance. Insignificance in the grandness of existence. That's what Rodney had said the night they'd watched the Wraith darts collide with the shield: _"The scope of the universe makes human life inconsequential."_ Of course, he'd gone on to say he was the exception, possessing the secrets of the universe in his all-knowing person, but John hadn't been fooled by the arrogant comment; the astrophysicist had hidden depth. John had come to learn he, himself, didn't.

Too soon, Minevry was reduced to parts of a whole. Reddish liquid filled with human fragments. A gruesome tumbler; half full or half empty? Pessimistic or optimistic views of the world were ridiculous; realism was what you needed when you were dying.

Useless, he was utterly useless. He hadn't saved anyone. He watched Nihel as he had watched the other women. He tried to show her that she was not alone, that in those last moments he accompanied her, but he was sure she was not convinced. He was not with her, not really. He was seeing all the people he hadn't managed to save before her. She was one of many and he was so sorry. His courage had failed him. He'd failed everyone.

Nihel was gone. They were all gone. Oblee stood close, watching him as he had done the others. He was sure she smiled. She had a right to; the love of her life was coming back to her as soon as John became a puddle. A puddle! Wasn't that what he had always been? Without a true shape, always adapting to any boundaries?

He felt a sting, something akin to a shaving nick, and knew it was starting. His destiny would be fulfilled and how many people could say that? How many people knew their purpose! He did; he simply didn't know who he was anymore. Somehow, it was important. He wanted to die with a certain understanding of his life, of himself. What was he worth? Was he correct in believing he was irrelevant? Not in the metaphorical sense but truly, a speck of immaterial?

Yes… … …no!

He closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to keep the pain hidden away. He couldn't believe in himself anymore. As much as he wanted to and knew he should…he just couldn't. There was doubt; sneaky, malicious, nefarious doubt. It questioned his every thought and ridiculed him. If he tried to force himself to believe he was of consequence it would bring forth arguments that convinced him he wasn't. John wanted out of his own skin quickly; it was the only way to make the pain go away completely. Doubt was too strong an opponent to be fought or reasoned with.

John opened his eyes; they locked on stormy blue ones and he came to an obvious conclusion. Doubt had nothing on Rodney McKay.


	15. Chapter 15

This is all you Angela, making everything better!

Notes: Oh man, oh man! You guys, with the reading and the reviews and...you're so darn nice, each and every one :)

**Reactions**

Relief…

Warming, comforting, happiness-inducing relief rushed through Rodney's body, weakening his knees and soothing his frazzled nerves. He stood transfixed, thinking he'd never seen a more beautiful colour than the soft hazel of the eyes that widened in recognition before disappearing in a slow blink.

"You're alive…" His body let him enjoy this moment, easing back the tension that had plagued him for more than a week. The world slowed down to a near halt, sounds took on a faraway, muted quality. Lokas, Mira, the accompanying team, the many guards they had picked up on the way; everything disappeared, only Sheppard remained.

Unfortunately, his contentment was quickly overridden by the coldness of hatred and his entire being contracted in a burning need to lash out. He bellowed without moving from his stance in front of the device. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM?"

Sheppard's body was covered by small, deep cuts and blood ran in thin rivulets down his pale skin. Rodney's eyes followed the trajectory of a small object that shot up through a tube and fell down to the bottom of the device. He peered at it, trying to establish its nature and provenance. Another followed the same path and as he traced back to its point of origin, Rodney saw red. Red like blood, red like flesh wounds, red like rage.

This time, there was no one to stop Rodney from the spew of words that tumbled out of his mouth, no one to tell him to be quiet or calm. They'd all witnessed the same thing and were reacting in similar ways. Teyla let out a horrified gasp and fisted her hand on the sleeve of Rodney's jacket. Ronon took the same path, though his hands reached for a completely different target.

From inside the Sancta, it was quite an alarming spectacle. His own body, limp and lifeless, Rodney's hate-filled glare and unstoppable mouth, Teyla's distressed clutching of his sleeve, Ronon's struggle against the pull of his team-mates, reaching for…what was the man doing?

Ronon managed to take a few steps as Rodney followed trustingly, his eyes still locked on the device, unaware of their destination. John couldn't help but be amazed at the incredible naivety of the most brilliant man he had ever met. To just follow blindly like that, without assuring himself it was safe! He realised perhaps, this time, naivety was not in play. It was trust. Rodney trusted Ronon to lead him, to keep him out of harm's way because that's what they did. They kept each other safe. He watched as the two men moved, dragging Teyla towards Ronon's intended target. Rodney's eyes widened as he apparently understood the endeavour's unavoidable conclusion. He tried to hold back, stop moving, but he was no match for Ronon's brute force.

Lokas stepped in front of the group, hands raised in a hindering gesture. "Stop! Wait! I can help you!"

"Move!" Ronon would reach her no matter who stood in his way. He shoved Lokas away and, putting all his strength in one final pull on the opposing forces that held him back, his hands landed on the neck of the red-haired woman. He squeezed and threatened, "Release him!" It was similar to his standard tactics though his fingers usually clenched around a weapon as opposed to velvety flesh.

The woman spoke haltingly, the suffocating pressure on her neck restricting a good percentage of the air necessary to assure life. "I…cannot…he has…no right…"

"You mean you won't!" Ronon pressed harder; thus began the battle between a runner's instinctual reaction and a defenceless trachea. He looked at the woman's bulging eyes, her skin paling from the decrease in oxygen supply. She dug her nails in the constricting limbs in an effort to free herself. A slow spreading, disturbingly satisfied smile lighted Ronon's face as he saw her lose focus and felt her body slacken. He'd get Sheppard back, get his team back. They'd be all right; everyone alive and well. They'd be able to go on missions, watch movies together, spar, mock McKay and generally have a good time. Everything would be as it should be.

He didn't realised he was speaking aloud until he was shouting. "You will not take my life again. I have found a home, you will not destroy it! Free him! FREE HIM NOW!"

Oblee was wrenched from his grasp and he let out a furious howl. It had taken Mira, two guards, Major Lorne and Lieutenant What's-his-name to take her away from him. He lunged again, a feral need to destroy her for what she'd done to them all. Lorne raised his weapon, his face determined.

"Stop, or I _will_ shoot." He indicated the console that stood to their left. "Dr. McKay, you should take a look at that thing, get Colonel Sheppard out." The Major had a good head, knew how to handle people, diffuse potentially explosive situations. This was definitely one of the highly volatile kind if only from the involved parties' emotional exhaustion. He couldn't fathom how they'd held it together so long. Granted, McKay had been irascible but it was not unexpected; he was prone to overly strong reactions and was not trained to deal with death in such proximity. No one ever was, but Major Lorne believed it was easier on the military contingent. Death was part of their everyday lives, even more so now. Sometimes, he truly hated his career choice.

Rodney gave one look at Sheppard, saw the blood on his body, his very _alive_ body, and wanted nothing more than to bring him home to the safety of Carson's domain. "Yeah." He gave a pointed look to Ronon who was starring fiercely at Oblee before tapping him on the shoulder and indicating the console with a jerk of his head. "Let's get Sheppard. It's no use choking her, not going to help Sheppard or get us out of here any faster."

They moved to the console where Rodney quickly went to work. The woman sat up slowly, clutching her neck, feeling Ronon's predatory glare. He'd followed because it was true, their main concern was freeing Sheppard, but McKay didn't understand. No one touched his people and lived to tell the tale. She would know it had been a monumental mistake to harm Sheppard, his leader and the closest thing he had to a brother.

Lokas helped her get to her feet, speaking desolately. "What have you done, Oblee?"

"I have done no worse than the people who sent Banee to exile."

Teyla listened to them speak quietly as McKay feverishly ran his fingers over the console. She let her eyes wander to the devices filled with liquid and to John who stood frozen, his eyes roaming over them. She looked again to the other devices and her mind registered what she was seeing. Human lives, that's what the liquid was, or had been. She looked at John again and her heart lurched as another piece of flesh left his body. She knew her nightmares would not only be filled with images of a corpse but a fluid presence. This could've been the Colonel's fate. It could still be if they couldn't get him out. A savage scream pulled her out of sickening thoughts.

"STEP AWAY! STOP!"

Oblee was charging at them in desperation. Ronon smiled hungrily, ready to finish what he had started. She threw herself over the console and attempted to push Rodney away. When it failed to deter his efforts, she punched him in the face, twice. Her fighting skills drew an impressed eyebrow lift from Teyla and she hated herself for it, this was not the time for technique evaluation. Rodney's primarily scientific mind considered the implication of the velocity of impact on the field's permeability a split second before registering pain.

"OW! What's your problem? You broke my face! I need my face! Are you insane?" He regained his sight by unclenching his eyes, observed whom he was speaking to and considered his last statement. "Oh, yeah."

With strength born from urgency, Oblee was pushing them away from the console one nanometre at a time but carefully remained out of Ronon's reach concentrating all her efforts on Rodney's broad chest. Lokas and the guards rushed to her and attempted to drag her away.

"Let me go! Let me go! They will ruin it all! They will take Banee away! Lokas! Order them to desist!"

"Oblee. It is their right to free their friend. I am sorry but you will lose Banee through your own foolishness! You should not have done this, it is not right to force the assemblage! You have killed five innocent people! You have selfishly taken five wonderful lives to satisfy your need!"

"Wonderful lives! They were nothing! Carriers, senses! They had Banee!"

"They were more than that, you know this to be true. What have you done, Oblee? What have you done…"

"AH!" They were interrupted by Rodney's loud, satisfied outburst. He'd resumed his study of the console while Lokas attempted to calm his sister.

John was released from the Sancta, the shield disappeared and he fell to the ground in a bloody heap. A large cloud of dark green smoke rose up…up…up into the sky and disappeared in a languorous dance. Ronon, Rodney and Teyla hurried to John's side and he watched them approach with a small smile, purposefully ignoring his own deceased flesh being carried between the two men.

"You came…"

"Have they made stupid your default setting here or what? Of course we came! Who do you think you're talking to, huh? Though with the dead thing…" Rodney attempted humour but gave up, there was nothing funny about their situation. "He brought us here."

John's head rose an inch from the ground and he peered in the direction Rodney had indicated. He saw the man who held Oblee as she cried. Even her pain couldn't lessen his good spirits as he took in the sight of his people, his friends. He sighed contentedly and passed out, feeling like all was right in the world. He never heard the animalist scream Oblee released as she rushed to him and tried to put him back in the Sancta.

"NO! NO! I will not lose him completely! BANEEEEEEEE!"

She grabbed him roughly and dragged him to the device, screaming and crying. "You are not supposed to be here! Give me the essence! Give it to me! You are useless! Nothing, a carrier! Just a carrier! I do not want you! I want Banee! Give him back to me! Give me his life! It is not yours! You have taken what is not yours!"

She dug a gadget out of the depth of her cloak and applied it to Sheppard's neck. It performed its intended function with a soft hiss which brought a satisfied smile to her mouth. Standing, she gave a vicious kick to John's stomach, aggravating his injuries and spilling more blood.

This, Ronon couldn't tolerate. He let go of the weak grip he had managed to retain on his self-control and let his massive hands close around Oblee's neck once more. He heard the voices that begged him to stop, couldn't miss the barrel of a P-90 threatening him and saw hands trying to pry the woman away from his murderous grip, but decided she would not be taken away again. With a quick, strong movement, he turned her head too far to the left. The sickening crick of broken bones was the last sound to ever come from her. Ronon released her lifeless body and it slumped beside Sheppard's.

Everyone stopped and stared as Lokas held his sister close. Crying noiselessly, he stroked her hair for a long moment which no one dared to interrupt. Eventually, he wiped his eyes and stood, facing Ronon. "It will not be said that what she did was right, not by me nor any of my people, and neither will it be said that you are a bad man. It will simply be said that the hand of justice was forced for her, unlike it was for you. My sister has killed innocents, she would have been punished according to our laws; you have killed my sister and so justice shall be rendered." He was calm, as if explaining a simple fact. "Guards, please escort them to the city, I shall request a meet with the High House immediately."

The guards moved much faster than would've been expected, taking weapons, making officers unconscious in mere seconds. Teyla, Rodney and Ronon could only watch as their people were overpowered and their own weapons were turned against them. Rodney couldn't help but curse the force field for the umpteenth time for it made them as strong as the weakest member and he knew all too well how weak that member truly was. Were it not for him, Ronon and Teyla would've been able to fight and save the day. Internally berating his contemptible self, he followed the guards, loudly demanding they handled Sheppard cautiously. He felt Teyla's hand on the small of his back and turned to look at her. She smiled gently and inclined her head. They would be fine, they had Sheppard now. The quaternion was complete; they'd found the one to add to their three.


	16. Chapter 16

Everyone knows Angela right? She's the ultimate brain! Yeah!

**Notes**: Naughty words will make an appearance in this chapter. You know Rodney, when he's upset...naughty. Also, aaaaaw, you guys are great! Glad you're enjoying this and soooooo pleased you're taking the time to review! I hope you won't hate this chapter...writer's paranoia :)

**Chill**

Waking, he wondered when the world had gotten so foggy.

While he attempted to sit up, his arms decided they wouldn't hold his weight; he collapsed back unto warm, comfortable softness. The slight movement efficiently consumed all his energy and he started to drift back, welcoming sleep. A soft voice spoke to him and a cold touch made him shiver.

"Settle down, John, you are safe." Teyla hated telling lies under any circumstances but what else was she to say? Everything is fine Colonel, we have been thrown into a cell masquerading as plush accommodation, Major Lorne and his team have disappeared, and we have been unable to tend to your wounds adequately? Somehow, she didn't think that would've been reassuring. She ran her hand over his forehead and saw him shiver.

"Are you cold?"

"Cold…on my head…" It was Teyla, she spoke to him. She was here, they were here. He burrowed his face in the very fluffy pillow and pulled a thick blanket up to his cheek, rubbing it against the material, enjoying the feel of it against his skin. A happy but weak smile graced his lips and he was content, despite the cold, the headache, the sore throat and aching muscles. He remembered waking up before to the same touch and the sound of voices speaking to him, speaking for him. John Sheppard lived and, for the moment, was glad. Friends, pillows and good _knock you out for the week_ drugs, what more could a man want? Possibly, to be without the knowledge his very dead body reposed a few feet away and that, he who lay on the bed breathing, was just as insignificant. For now it didn't matter, barely registered in the haze that was his mind.

Teyla removed her hand. She had meant to comfort him back into sleep but had forgotten the cold. Carson had remarked, when he'd attempted to touch them many days ago, that he could only feel a cold resistance. It felt like placing your palm against seawater. Tall flames flashed through her mind and she smiled mirthlessly; they certainly could sense warmth. Thus, she knew John's skin was hot and it would be inadvisable for him to burrow deeper under the blanket as he was. She pulled it away from him gently, the slack hold he had easily countered.

"Uhnnnnnnn…blankets…" A hand snaked from under the pillow and it attempted to reclaim the warming weight.

"You must breathe. Let air circulate, I will cover you in a moment." She took hold of his hand and stroked his palm. A surge of tenderness towards the man ran through her when he smiled and hummed an appreciative noise before he went back to sleep.

She felt Rodney press against her, trying to see the Colonel. She turned to him and saw her concern reflected in his expressive face. "How is he?"

"I fear the infection has progressed. We must request medicine once more. He is shivering despite the warmth of his skin."

"Still feverish?"

"A little, yes."

Rodney was silent and breathed in deeply, apparently attempting to stop the flare-up he felt coming. His efforts were in vain. "Well then, that's just perfect isn't it? We come to save his ungrateful ass and what does he do? Get infected! Great! Goliath had to go homicidal on Lokas' sister and now, what, we get the speech on the value of life, a threat of serious punishment, and then they leave us to rot in here for days!" He breathed deeply once more and Teyla hoped he was done; she didn't want him to wake John.

Of course, he wasn't, was merely getting into stride. "Fucking idiots! That's all everyone is! MORONS! I thought my science team was a disgrace but they just might be the cream of the crop! Another galaxy and suddenly, by comparison, everybody on Atlantis is a damn genius! He's going to die again! Two bodies! Won't that be fun! Maybe I can lie between the two, make the whole thing even more grotesque! Can't we get a break! A BREAK! DO YOU KNOW WHAT A BREAK IS MURPHY? Slave-driver! That's what it is you know, a slave-driver, always wanting us to work work work so ir keeps sending trouble our way, making sure everything we do gets mangled in the worst possible way!"

She had not the patience for him this time. They'd coddled Rodney long enough. They were all in this situation together, what right did he have to claim all the misery as his own! She could understand, he was expressing his feelings the only way he knew how, but it was maddening. "I have had enough of you! You will be quiet, unless you can speak in a calm and respectful manner or can contribute a plan of escape!" The minute she saw his face harden further she regretted her words, but he needed to hear it, needed to stop being like this. She had no more to give, she couldn't comfort him. He had to be strong.

Knowing he was out of line, that they were just as upset as he was, didn't stop him from being a bastard. It felt good to yell, it was freeing. Rodney was so worried and scared and, yes, angry. Always angry because it was the most practical emotion, the most acceptable. What was he going to do; cry on Teyla's shoulder? Better yet, on John's dead body while he waited for him to die a second time! He couldn't do this anymore! He just wanted to be alone to…deal! Losing John had been so hard. Thinking about it brought physical pain, his heart constricted and his breath hitched. He couldn't handle this, he just couldn't and if Teyla wanted him to be nice and respectful well she could go back to her damn village! Who did she think she was anyway, huh? Damn her and her superiority complex! Ah, good ol' anger, so reliable, always there when you needed it! Concerned? Get angry. Fearful? Get angry. Sad? Get angry. Yep, rage, the McKay way of life.

"I don't care if you've had enough, got that? I'll say whatever I want, whenever I want and there's nothing you can do about it! You'll get no respect, no gratitude and I'll certainly not bow down to your imagined status in this team…"

"DOCTOR! You will be quiet. We must tend to John. You can be the selfish, cowardly, despicable man I know you to be later! Try to put your self-importance aside and think of another for a change. He needs us! I will not hesitate to harm you if you continue to behave this way!" He angered her so! She knew it was not the right thing to say, it would only create more pain, but it was what _she_ needed. She couldn't be reasonable all the time! Assuredly, fighting amongst themselves would serve no purpose, but she was only human.

"Fine!" Teyla had called him Doctor and that stung; he had been Rodney to her for months now. Doctor was so cold, dismissive. She was right, though knowing that didn't abate his anger. For John, he would try to calm down and play nice.

Ronon didn't speak; he never did anymore, there was no point, no one listened. They'd been in this room for days; stuck to each other for two weeks. So close, yet drifting apart. Unable to say what they felt, to show vulnerability, to say they needed help. Choosing to hurt each rather than face their pain.

Yesterday, Lokas had come to explain in great details what would happen. McKay had asked innumerable questions about the device and what had happened to Sheppard. Not so much about what would happen to Ronon but he'd seen the look, McKay's '_you're going to die but we won't talk about it_' look.

Ronon had perpetrated the highest offence on this world: taken a life. The ultimate punishment was severance. It seemed a terrible faith, but it wasn't. They'd rip his soul apart and send it to all corners of the universe. He'd be able to claim it back once he discovered the worth of life. Ronon had just laughed; he had no soul, not anymore. When you lost everything and were made a toy for the Wraith you couldn't afford a soul. He'd brought cullings to so many worlds just by spending the night, that he had resolutely closed himself off, discarded his feelings, his hopes, his dreams. Until he had come to Atlantis. A new beginning and a life that had been seized from him again. Sheppard, believed to be dead; Teyla growing bitter and hurtful from the strain of it all, McKay becoming increasingly callous and frantic. His family was drifting apart and it was the last battle, all over again. Betrayal, weakness, to each his own despite the consequence on the whole community. Theirs was small, only four people, almost strangers now, but a community nonetheless.

They were all too stubborn, himself included. He wouldn't say it but it burned within him. Regret, despair, the acuteness of loss. He was sorry for what he'd done; not because the woman had died but because he'd precipitated their destruction. If he hadn't given in to instinctual urges, they would be home and Sheppard would be getting the treatment he needed instead of thrashing helplessly in fever's clutches.

Home.

Little did he know that, on Atlantis, they were thinking of him as he thought of them.

Elizabeth was ready to tear her hair out of her scalp. She'd been negotiating the return of SGA-1 for days and the man wouldn't heed her.

"I apologise, but it cannot be prevented. Justice dictates that he be severed."

"I understand, it is your law, but can't we reach an agreement, find another way?"

He shook his head, eyes fixed on the table.

Elizabeth couldn't believe all that she had heard. John was alive, his team safe exception made of Ronon who would soon have his essence scattered across the universe. She still wasn't sure she understood it. "Please, explain this process again."

The man smiled and inclined his head in acceptance. "It is the highest form of justice on my world. It is meant to teach the value of life. One who has killed must return to the basis of being; he becomes his senses and true self, the core. The six senses are then sent through the Ring and find their carrying circle, or the family that will produce the carrier. These carriers are unaware of what they are."

"Colonel Sheppard is one of those carriers?"

"Indeed he is, as were five others, born only when the senses were ready to return. It was through a grave mistake that they returned so early in their progression. The carriers are not meant to be told of their status before it is time for the essence to come home. Only in the last moment of their lives are the senses taken to be assembled. He should never have known."

He fell silent for a moment, gaze fixed on his hands. "I will not lie to you, Doctor Weir. It was through the doings of my sister that he came to find himself in such a position. She would've been severed for her actions had Mister Dex not taken justice upon himself. The High House has no other choice but to uphold the law. He will be severed as soon as the veil has lifted. The others will be free to go but he will remain. I am truly sorry for the sufferings my sister's actions have brought upon you and yours."

She believed he was. This was a gentle man bound by obligations. His people's beliefs necessitated that Ronon be made to atone for the murder. She couldn't fault them though she had argued vehemently. Ignorance was not innocence, even in the Pegasus galaxy. She didn't want to lose Ronon but neither did she want to risk John, Rodney and Teyla. She knew John would never forgive her for not allowing Major Lorne to mount a rescue mission the minute he had come back from the planet where they'd been held, but it was her decision. How could they win against a world that had the ability to sever souls and reassemble them!

"I appreciate your position but wish there was a better solution." She stood, this meeting would only end the same way the previous had; with nothing lost but nothing gained. Ronon would be severed. There was nothing she could do.

Lokas left Atlantis with a heavy heart. It was not right. He missed Oblee but was wise enough to know she would've have been severed and he would've lost her regardless. At nearly five hundred years old, he wouldn't have lived to see her return. It was their fault Mister Dex was in this predicament. Had Mira come to him sooner, had he confronted Oblee instead of waiting, hoping she would not go forward with the plan, these people would never have lived through this. Truth be told, he had hoped Mira was lying, hoped she was the vengeful, evil person Oblee had made her out to be. Oblee had not been well. If only he had seen it sooner, helped her in some way, none of this would've happened. He could only hope she was at peace now…

He heard the pounding of running feet and saw Mira approaching, followed by four guards. He idly wondered why she was here rather than on Atle. The reminder of the world where Mira had been forced to stay for so long drew a sigh from the saddened man. A world made to obey a fake Celebrant. The Atle's High House was only a pale copy of their own; only meant as an excuse for Mira to meet any new arrivals. Meant to trap the carriers and send them to Oblee. How could he not have known! Mira had simply disappeared one day and it had been assumed that what Oblee said was true; she had attempted to prevent Banee's severance and had disappeared before she could be brought to justice. Oblee; lies upon lies. She had blinded them all, defied them on their own world without arousing suspicions.

Mira had drawn close enough for him to hear her cries. "Lokas! The veil has lifted!"

"When!"

"An hour ago! The High House is awaiting your return to proceed with the severance!"

He hurried his steps to follow as she told him of the events since his departure for Atlantis.


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks to Angela. Yeah, running out of creative ways to say you are the absolute best!

**Notes:** I don't know if I'm sorry will cut it...but, ummm, you guys are still absolutely marvellous, no matter how much you might want to rip my head off.

**Fractured**

Dispirited, they were all dispirited. That would explain why he was witnessing this scene in stunned silence instead of interposing himself between the angered opponents.

"What the hell are we supposed to do? We're all injured, bleeding, hungry, thirsty and in general bad health! I can assure you, if I don't eat soon I am not going to be of much help!" Rodney was sitting on the floor, his head against the bed, bandaging his thigh.

"You have been extremely unhelpful for quite some time now." Teyla was on the opposite side, doing exactly the same.

Sheppard sat on the bed and watched Ronon tend to his own bleeding wound, all the while listening to the other members of his team, fighting. This was not normal banter, hadn't been for days. Teyla would never say such a thing were she in her right mind. This ordeal had been hard on them just as it had on him, but he wanted his team to retain their former closeness; he needed them to do so!

"Yes well…just you wait! You'll see how bad it can get. Want to see my body shut down, huh? Want me to fall into a coma!"

"I would like that very much. It would spare me the unpleasantness of putting up with you! Now please be quiet or I will not hesitate to harm you."

He was stunned. Had she just seriously threatened him? "What! You won't hesitate to harm me! What does that mean?"

"It means that, shall you continue speaking for any length of time, you will find that I am skilled in hand to hand combat."

"You're threatening me! I can't believe you're threatening me!"

"You would be wise to believe it Doctor McKay."

This was most definitely a good time for him to step in. John carefully levered himself off the bed. His temperature might've gone back to a normal 97F but the fever was a fresh memory to his feeble state. He came to stand, albeit unsteadily, arms crossed, at the foot of the bed. They had both finished with their task and were now struggling to get up, the pain in their thigh intensified by the movement. "Ok, everyone calm down. No one's threatening anyone."

"Yes! She is! She's threatening to hurt me with her Xena moves!"

"I am." It felt good to admit it, to lash out at someone. McKay had been impossibly trying the last few days; increasingly so, now that the force field had released them and he was feeling some discomfort. The facts were that they had all been shot, were hungry and thirsty. Ronon and herself had drank some water from the carafe that had been brought for Sheppard, forgot about the hunger and seen to their injury. Not Doctor McKay! Of course not! He couldn't be expected to suffer any of it in silence. If he was uncomfortable, everyone had to sympathise. Well! She'd had enough!

"See! Threatening me! Good idea there, Teyla! Think that Wraith gene is taking over? Feeling aggressive? Healing quickly? Have a need to feed?"

She hadn't realised she'd hit him until it was too late. The satisfaction she felt at making that infuriation smirk disappear was short lived. At once, the anger she had accumulated over the last few days, the strain it had been to deal with Ronon's silence, Rodney's rage and John's death, was forgotten. It left in its wake the weight of guilt, which was increased as Rodney's hand went up to his jaw and let out a small pitiful moan.

"You hit me…" It was only a whisper, as if he wasn't sure it had happened. No one had ever hit him like this before. Of course, with his charming personality, he hadn't been able to avoid the playground beatings, but he had never been hit by someone so close to him. He'd gone too far, he knew that, everyone in the room knew that, but, she'd hit him.

"What the hell is wrong with you guys?" John just couldn't believe it had gone so far! Physical violence! He knew Teyla had it in her, especially since the incident with Bates, but he couldn't believe she would harm any of them! Granted, Rodney had said terrible things, but if they were at the point where they would treat each other in such a way, what were the chances they would remain united to endure what was to come?

Teyla hung her head, ashamed. "I am sorry."

Wide blue eyes stared at him. Rodney seemed at a loss. "She hit me…"

"I am sorry, Rodney, I did not mean to harm you. I lost my patience. What you said was unfounded and deeply hurtful. You must know there is no greater insult than to be likened to a Wraith, yet you use it in a petty disagreement."

Rodney breathed in deeply, closing his eyes, obviously making an effort to quell the angry retort that was his reflex. He was truly sorry he had said it. He certainly didn't think such things of her and it seemed important to tell her so. Although, she had been just as hurtful over the last few days. He noted she'd called him Rodney again and not Doctor McKay. It only served to prove to him that she too could use dishonest tactics to gain an advantage. Using his name was simply a way to endear herself to him.

The room was silent for tense moments. John shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unwilling to step in again. If they could resolve this on their own, they would be closer to mending the chasm that had grown between them. It would ultimately be for the best.

Rodney turned toward the door and spoke quietly. "I know. I didn't mean it."

They were prevented from explaining themselves further by the appearance of Lokas and Mira, trailed by five guards.

"I see Mira has informed me correctly. The veil has lifted." Lokas stepped into the room, his air grave. "I have come for Mister Dex. My request to the High House, to be the one performing the severance, has been granted. We will proceed to the Sancta without delay." He turned to John, Teyla and Rodney. "You will be accompanied to the Ring."

Rising to his feet, Ronon moved quietly to the door, resigned to his faith. None of them were in any shape to fight the guards who had previously demonstrated how well they had been trained. They were completely powerless, a new feeling for them, for the team who always managed to escape, make it home in one piece. The high level of stress they had been subjected to had served to addle their minds; even Rodney couldn't have devised a clever plan, had there been hope.

Teyla stopped Ronon's progress and came to stand before him to perform the Athosian greeting. They stood, unmoving, for some time before Ronon stepped back and walked around her.

"Ronon." Rodney had no idea what he should say, so he remained silent, holding the runner's gaze. The horror of losing a friend again was too much to bear. Ronon seemed to understand, for he nodded before coming to stand beside Mira, without having uttered a word.

As a friend, John felt it was his duty to speak, to offer words of comfort. As team leader, he felt it important to protect Ronon by any means necessary. As a carrier, as an insignificant presence, he felt he should give this life in order to save another. "Lokas? Would it be possible for me to take his place?"

Surprised, Lokas paused a moment, considering his request. "Yes, it would. If you wish to do so. You are a carrier after all, it is appropriate."

"NO!" Rodney felt his world disintegrate. He couldn't tolerate the blinding pain that wormed its way through him and settled intent on staying until he woke; for this could only be a nightmare. John wouldn't do this. Hell no! Rodney wouldn't let him die, not now, not ever!

"Rodney…" John didn't look at the scientist certain that what he would see would only serve to aggrieve him. This life wasn't his so it seemed only fitting that he give it for Ronon. He spoke to Lakos. "We should go." He couldn't stay here with them, it would only sadden them. A large hand landed on his shoulder.

"It's my severance, Sheppard, it was my killing."

"Not anymore."

"You think I'll let you do this?"

"Got no choice. I'm the CO and I _order_ you to go back home." He smiled because that's what he did, John Sheppard never dealt with anything; he smiled his life away.

A small, warmer hand was gently laid upon his arm. "This is an order we choose to disregard."

"You can't. It's final. Go home."

Lokas gestured to the guards who stepped forward and pointed their weapon at his team. John knew it would be difficult, they would refuse his choice, they wouldn't understand, but he needed to do it. He wouldn't be able to accept this life that wasn't meant for him and allow Ronon to be severed.

Foolishly, Ronon attempted to subdue the guards to facilitate an escape but he was efficiently outmanoeuvred, weakened by his injury and lack of energy. He found himself face down to the floor, a knee pressed to his back. He struggled as he saw feet move and heard Rodney's scream, but he was unable to dislodge the guard. He growled and bucked under the retraining weight but only managed to waste what little energy he had.

"Don't do this."

"I have to."

"No you don't! Don't die, John!"

It was not the plea but the use of his given name that made him turn back and look at the man who was so much more to him than a team-mate; his brother, his best friend. They all were, truth be told. He loved them so. "Rodney… You heard what Lokas said about the carriers, about the procedure. I'm nothing. I was just created to bring Banee's essence back, and now I will. I'll do what I was meant to do. I'm not even alive. Ronon has his whole life ahead."

"Yes you are! You're right here." Rodney laid both his hands on John's shoulders and shook him slightly. "You're alive. See, feel this, you feel this and I do too so you're clearly alive. You can't say otherwise! We found you, and now you want to leave us again! Don't…don't die. I won't. I can't let you do it…"

"I'm already dead." He pointed to his corpse, laying a few feet from them, already losing some of its rosy colour. "It'll be ok." It wouldn't be, not really. His team would be severed just like him, it already was. They wouldn't bounce back easily from this, he knew, but he had limited options available to him. At least he had lived enough to chose. He turned away, unable to bear the look upon Rodney's face; fearful, defeated, stricken. He usually worked to avoid these feelings in his favourite astrophysicist, but this time he was the cause. Nothing he could say would wipe the slate clean and bring back the arrogance.

Teyla stood on Rodney's right, her features wearing a similar expression. She couldn't say she understood, but how could she plead with him, choose him over Ronon. A double-edged sword; no matter who went, they would lose a precious being. Giving his life for them was something John viewed as a responsibility and he would not renege, he was a man of honour. "You are a gift to us all, John Sheppard." She stepped forward, to share in the Athosian greeting with John and, as with Ronon, they stood, unmoving for a long time.

When they parted, John said the only thing he could say. "It's my job…"

"NO! No it's not!" Rodney gripped the front of John's shirt fiercely; the blue of his eyes drowning in regret.

"It is, you know it is. Take care of each other, ok? Don't fight anymore, you have to stick together." He gently removed the clutching fingers and stepped away toward the door. "Let's go. Can't wait all day." If his voice broke on the words and his step faltered once more when Rodney let out a vicious curse, there was no one to notice, he had already left.

"Mira, accompany them and the guards to the Ring. Jusyta, please take the body and bring it with you, I shall bury it in memory of Oblee's sorrow."

Ronon struggled against the guards that had brought him to his feet and were holding him between them. They couldn't leave Sheppard's body here! His body! Another one! He would die again! How could they let this happen! Ronon fought to free himself, but a guard landed a powerful blow on the back of his head and he slumped forward, barely conscious.

Lokas stood at the door and watched them. Mister Dex, usually defiant with barely controlled rage, now hung limply between his guards, Miss Emmagan at his side, attempting to evaluate his state. Doctor McKay stood rigidly, wet eyes fixed on the door throughout which Colonel Sheppard had disappeared. Lokas nodded to Mira and left the room, motioning for Jusyta to follow, carrying the cadaver of a man who would leave them with another before the day was through.


	18. Chapter 18

Ode to Angela: You are magnificent, all shall bow down when faced with such an intellect...(TBC)

**Notes:** You guys are absolutely fantastic! Only a few more chapters to go, unless I go all out for the lengthy resolution :)

**Division**

The room fell silent if only for Teyla's whispered inquiries regarding Ronon's condition. He would have quite the headache but as he was conscious, she was not excessively worried. She eyed Rodney warily. The tallest guard, standing by the door, was the one to allow sound back in the room.

"We must accompany you to the Ring. Please, follow."

They moved as one; the guards, Teyla, Ronon. Only Rodney seemed to be oblivious to his surroundings. Teyla put a hand on his arm and he looked down before raising his sight to her. Upon recognising who was standing so close to him, he frowned and wrenched away from her touch. She supposed she had deserved it but it broke her to see that they still stood on opposite side of a too wide river. With John gone, it was doubtful they would cross it.

They walked in heavy silence, Teyla positioning herself behind Ronon as to assure herself the guards were careful with their priceless load. Not completely incognisant, he realised what was happening, realised that, once more, they left without Sheppard. Left him in the hands of these people, subjected to a horrible process. Ronon ached to go, to run and get him away from here, but he couldn't; he could hardly walk.

Of course, in this forsaken galaxy, things could only go from bad to worst and so it is that they found themselves with an unconscious Rodney. He had felt it coming, felt his heart lose its constant rhythm, felt his brain slow to a sluggish operation, his hands shake, his brow moisten with sweat. He had waited for it, unable to face the world. John was dead and he'd rather face a medical problem than grief. He couldn't handle it. Had to wait until he was alone to allow his feelings to escape his control. Anger couldn't help him this time, his body had to shutdown; he had to flee this sense of utter despair.

"RODNEY!" Teyla hurried to his side, hopeful that he had simply stumbled and lacked the strength to rise. Finding it wasn't the case, she attempted to wake him by gently tapping his cheek, then more forcibly and lastly by shaking him, letting his head thump roughly against the ground. Ronon, aided by the guards, reached them and made an effort to speak through the haze of his thoughts.

"Teyla…stop…hurting him…"

She stopped after a few seconds and turned pleading eyes to the guards. "Please, we must hurry. He needs immediate medical attention. Please, take him and precede us to the gate."

Sensing the urgency, two guards hoisted Rodney up and started for the gate at a run. The remaining guards did the same albeit more slowly as Ronon's weight was considerable.

Teyla stayed between the two groups, wishing that this day would not bring more loss upon them.

Interestingly enough, walking away at a perfect 90º angle from Teyla's position, John Sheppard worried about them, amongst other things, least of which was the severance that would shortly occur. He hoped they would get to the gate safely. Once there, they would be tended to; Carson was a gifted doctor, he'd fix them up in a minute. Rodney would be moody of course, disputing the treatments, but he would do as he was told. A gentle voice but a strong hand was Carson's way. John allowed himself a chuckle as the scene played out in his head. The exasperation from both men, the friendly baiting… provided Rodney was conscious. He had been incredibly pale and John couldn't help but think he should've requested food for them before leaving. He'd never taken the man's claims of hypoglycaemia seriously until he'd had the unfortunate experience to see him in the throes of a reaction, not once, but twice. The second and most distressing time had been on a mission, where Rodney had grown increasingly discombobulated, to they're great surprise. Ford had still been with them at the time and it was thanks to him that they had thought to feed the scientist. Poor man had been babbling worst than ever…

John sighed. Ford. God! He kept losing his people! He was always there, putting others in danger, unable to save anyone. This time, they would be safe from him. He looked up and saw the Sancta in the far distance. Lokas walked a few steps ahead of him in what appeared to be amicable conversation with the guard, Jusyta who had thrown the body over his shoulder. How strange was that? Ah, he supposed it was only mildly intriguing when you were about to have your soul sucked out of you, and seriously, what was it about this place! What was up with all that sucking the life out of people! Couldn't they leave it alone! He sighed again. This hurt, tremendously. No matter what doubt he harboured about his life and self, he wanted to be going home with his team. It always came back to them. His people.

"Damn it!" He angrily wiped his eyes, where moisture was steadfastly forming dreaded tears. He was not going to cry over this! Yes, he'd been having a hard time lately but it was no reason to _cry._ Hadn't he been on the edge of death only a few days earlier? He hadn't cried then had he! No! No reason to do so now!

"Stop it!" Muttering under his breath to the lump in his throat wasn't helping. He wished he'd died without seeing them again. He could've held to the thought that they were nicely ensconced in Atlantis' safety, happily going on with their lives. Now he knew better; they were fighting, breaking apart. He'd managed to destroy the bond they had formed. It was true, he was useless! He should've died in the Sancta, should've never allowed them to take him with them. He'd been so happy though, so damn delighted that they'd come!

"What the hell is wrong with you John? Snap out of it!" What was wrong with him! He lifted a hand to his neck and scratched absently, concentrating on this new and bizarre behaviour he exhibited. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulder in an effort to hide from himself. There was no one watching so it made perfect sense that this was for his benefit. He supposed he'd already done the life evaluation activity; therefore, he should entertain vacuousness, like the good little mechanical soldier he was meant to be. G.I. John!

He let out a self-derisory snort. Yet another thing he had messed up. Unable to take orders, headstrong and convinced he was right; he did what he had to do regardless of his superior's opinions. Even Elizabeth, whom he held in the highest respect, had needed to reprimand him repeatedly; he never learned. Unfit for his own life, on the path to death once more.

He made a conscious effort to halt his thought process. He needed to forget about everything and wait for the moment when he truly wouldn't have to remember anything, ever again. He hoped the afterlife was a fantasy, he could settle for a deep, dark, depressing void. Nothing to his nothingness, releasing him from these disturbing ideas. No thoughts; refreshing concept. No worries nor doubts; no sadness nor fear; no pressure.

"Jusyta, is you could deposit the body here and leave us?" They had reached the Sancta, and Lokas was gesturing to the guard.

"Am I not meant to stay, Sir?" Jusyta wasn't sure about Lokas' order; the severance could be a long and tiresome process. He'd been his guard for many years and had seen the signs of fast approaching death in the man he looked to as a father. Wary of leaving him, he had defied his training and voiced his opinion.

Lokas smiled at the young man. He was a good soul, made to train for violence and conflict, though they rarely appeared on this world. "I assure you, Jusyta, we will be safe here. I will come find you near the edge of the city once it is done. Please, leave us, I am sure you can understand the importance this event holds for me."

Jusyta nodded and turned to leave. He understood; the man who stood near the central Sancta was the reason Lady Oblee had died, indirectly of course but the reason nonetheless. He hadn't known Banee, but was told the resemblance was uncanny.

Standing still, Lokas watched him leave until he disappeared through the woods, toward the city. Suddenly, he became a whirl of motion. Gesturing to John, he invited him to come forth. "Help me. We must put the body in the Sancta. Quickly, quickly!"

"The body? This one?" John pointed to his corpse, strangely unaffected by the terminology. That's all he'd ever been, wasn't it? A body, just a body carrying someone else's soul.

"Yes! Unless there is another…I see only one body here. Quickly!" He was divesting it of his clothes.

"Hey! What are you doing!" He had been curious to find out what he might've looked like to the women he had known, but hadn't really wanted to see it!

"As you are aware, we cannot allow anything but life in the Sancta! The veil would otherwise never form!"

Considering demanding an explanation, John decided to wait as the man did look rather distressed. He moved forward and took hold of his, _the_ legs, and realised that they were rather skinny. He wished Rodney was here so he could apologise; he was truly a skinny bastard.

At Lokas' insistence, they moved the body to the Sancta. Sheppard watched as the clear material moulded itself to the cadaver. A thought, pernicious things, marched to the forefront of his mind and he was hard-pressed to stop himself from blurting it out. "If the veil doesn't form with clothes, how come my team were in it fully dressed?"

"Oh…that is the doing of my sister Oblee. She had a fair amount of time to understand the workings of the Sancta and was able to manipulate it at will." The older man turned to John. "I am truly sorry for what you have been made to suffer. She was not well…"

"Yeah, well, too late now."

Lokas eyed him intensely before smiling softly. "Yes, perhaps it is, though we have a few moments to spare. Are there any interrogations you have regarding the severance?"

John shrugged and shook his head. "I'd rather not know." He lowered himself to the ground, his _living _body needing the respite. Conclusion Doctor Sheppard; you are one damaged individual.

The two men fell silent, lost in regrets.


	19. Chapter 19

Surprisingly enough, this is where Angela reads she is the greatest!

**Notes**: This is the evil spawn of all chapters. Annoying thing, die! Die beast! Die! Oh...sorry...right, well, in regards to Elizabeth; her actions here might not be in accordance with what she would ultimately choose to do, but I find it hard to tell what motivates her, so...if you disagree, and can shed some light on that character, I'd be grateful! Thanks for reading and commenting :) It is much appreciated!

**Release**

They dragged Rodney through the gate with the last ounce of their strength. Even pride couldn't keep them from collapsing to the ground alongside the unconscious man. Carson and his medical team were already swooping down on them, checking breathing and pulse and moving them in a ballet of gurneys, weakened bodies and strong, focused medical personnel.

Elizabeth had let relief flood her when she saw Ronon walk through the gate and silently thanked anyone who cared to listen. However, when the gate shut down and her eyes scanned the area immediately before it, her body froze, her breath itched and she silently cursed anyone who cared to listen. She rushed down the steps, unintentionally getting in the way of the medical team.

"Colonel Sheppard?"

Ronon attempted to sit up but was none too gently pushed back. He glared at the tiny nurse who, to her credit, glared back. He gave up the fight, this time, as Elizabeth came to stand beside him. "He stayed. Send teams, he's probably still alive."

"I can't do that." She wanted to but couldn't risk being at war with these people over one man. No matter who it might be.

"Do it!" He would not accept her answer. They had to send someone and get Sheppard the hell out of there! What good had it done to save him once to have him end up in the same position!

"We're no match for them."

"We know where he is, we'll show you!"

Carson let out a small huff. "You'll not be going anywhere, I can assure you!"

"Ronon, we cannot risk so many lives." It wasn't something Teyla liked to consider. Was it reasonable to value John's life above the others that could be lost were they to force his removal from the Sancta?

Reason, she had lost it over the last few days and she was glad that it was slowly creeping back, simply by being on known territory.

"Sheppard!" Ronon didn't need to say anymore. His name said everything; it would be interpreted differently by everyone that had heard it, but they would surely realise it was unacceptable that he be left behind! Ronon wondered if they were in some sort of…what had McKay said…a…time loop. History could simply be repeating itself over and over. But, no, not a time loop since it was not exactly the same situation. It might feel just as terrible to lose Sheppard, but these were completely different circumstances.

"We are aware of whom we have lost, but there is nothing to be done. You saw how well they can fight!"

The conversation was cut short by Carson who, having assured himself they would survive to see the infirmary, had moved to Rodney. The nurses had been busy, taking his pulse and arranging him on a gurney but he had yet to wake, despite their efforts. "What's happened to him?"

"He had not eaten in quite some time. He collapsed only minutes ago."

"Let's get them to the infirmary, glucose drip."

They saw only a blur of ceiling as they were rushed through the fair city, Elizabeth trailing behind.

Once they were settled, Elizabeth took a moment to speak with them, to be informed of the events preceding their return.

"When we arrived, he was in the…Sancta I believe is the name of the device. He was bleeding quite profusely and –" Teyla was interrupted by Elizabeth's lifted hand.

"I know, Lokas was here and explained. What I need to know is why did they take Sheppard? I'm glad you were freed Ronon but…"

"Volunteered."

"What?"

Raising an eyebrow at Ronon as he sank gratefully on the bed, Teyla took it upon herself to answer. She did not miss Elizabeth's surprise, though she was unsure whether it was from Ronon's comment or his action. He never allowed himself to allude to even one iota of limitation and yet, there he was, lying back and allowing a nurse to cover him and generally do her job. Returning her gaze to Elizabeth, Teyla continued relating the earlier happenings. "He asked Lokas if he could take Ronon's place. The Colonel has been greatly affected by the knowledge he is a carrier. He…seems to think his life is of no value…"

"Told McKay he was already dead."

"He did…he was not quite…uh…"

"Sane."

"In a way, yes…" It was correct; Sheppard had remained the same in actions but it had been obvious that his thoughts were those of a man who had lost certain faculties.

Seeing Teyla's eyes flutter, Elizabeth decided that this conversation could wait until they had slept. Evidently, Carson entertained the same thoughts, for he was at her side, where she stood between the beds, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"They need rest, Elizabeth."

She looked at him, his eyes filled with understanding and she knew if she asked to stay, he would allow it. They'd lost them or thought they had, so many times. She didn't ask, only nodded and smiled at Teyla and Ronon, the latter whom had already succumbed to Hypnos' insistence, and moved to Rodney's bedside.

"How is he?"

"He'll be fine, his blood sugar was low, but it was exhaustion that took him under. They've had a rough time of it, these last days." Carson let his sight wander from one patient to the next. The two men were sleeping soundly and Teyla was only minutes from slumber herself. He sighed. So many trials and tribulations for such kind people. Oh, sometimes they didn't look it, but each one of them had a good heart, a good head.

"That they have. Contact me if anything changes. I'll need to speak to them about…" She didn't know how to quantify this. She needed time to think; Sheppard was gone. How could a man die, or appear to, so often and never let the resulting feelings change. The same unbearably tight chest, the same thoughts shouting at her that he was lost, the same overpowering need to lock herself in her room and cry enough tears to submerge the city once more.

"You'll be the first to know."

They stood a moment, side by side, watching Rodney's chest rise and fall in reassuring breathing. Carson needlessly arranged his blanket then pressed a hand to Elizabeth's upper arm before heading to his office. Elizabeth followed suit, reintegrating her role as leader. She made it to her office before her legs gave out and she sank in the chair facing her desk. She took a moment to collect herself but couldn't allow her mind to delve on the miserable past. Resolutely, she stood, walked around the desk and sat in her chair. Attempting to lull her heart, she worked past the witching hour.

In the semi-darkness of the infirmary, Ronon found sleep eluded him. He'd had what might be characterised as a nap earlier, slept just enough for his body to crave more. He rubbed a hand over his face and turned to the left. Teyla's eyes were fixed on him and she smiled. He sent a grin her way because, yes, they were home. Regardless of what had happened and of the loss that left a gaping hole in their lives, they were home, together.

"Sleep?" He didn't like words anymore, had found they were more effective than weapons; left no lasting visible mark but the wounds were deepest.

"Yes, you?"

"I did."

They fell silent for a moment, both unsure of what should be said, what could be said. Teyla decided to take the plunge, risk it all. John was gone and Rodney had withdrawn from them completely, keeping his eyes resolutely shut, though they knew he was awake. There was only Ronon left and she would rather try to mend bridges with him and fail than let this friendship decay.

"How are you?" Weak question if there ever was, but one had to test the waters. She winced at the saying John had explained in the days when Aiden had been here, still a lovely young man; innocent yet deadly.

"Good."

"Are you?" He was obviously lying and Teyla couldn't see the point in letting him. They were past hiding now. It had been their mistake, none of them wanting to be the one to break, to allow the cracks to show. Foolish, they'd been so foolish. If only she had reached out to them. John still wouldn't be here with them, but Rodney would…

"No." He wasn't trying to be difficult. He knew what she was doing but was not ready to talk about this. Sheppard had died for him! A life for a life. He knew it had been wrong, had heard it in McKay's voice as he pleaded, had seen it in Elizabeth's face. They were not sorry he had lived, but that Sheppard had died; the Colonel was the soul of this city. Ronon let out a long, deep breath. The soul of the city was scattered across the universe by now. He wondered if Atlantis would know that he child was gone, if she would resent them as he did. They had done nothing to prevent this.

"Neither am I."

"Give it time." Ronon almost winced from voicing such worthless advice.

"We have not the choice to do otherwise." It amazed her how she could be so calm. She felt the wave of emotions floating through her; the anger, the horror, the despair and the devastating misery. They were just quiet, most likely lulled by the sedative the lovely doctor had administered. She couldn't help the wistful sigh that escaped; Atlantis and her people had remained the same while they were away, but their world had changed.

"Are you going home?" The mainland, away from this place, away from the hopelessness he felt. Staying in Atlantis would only heighten Sheppard's absence. They saw each other frequently during the day, whether it be training, meeting for a meal or any inane activity with which to occupy their time.

"Soon, I hope." She wondered if he would ask to join her or leave his desire unspoken. Theirs was a precarious position; unease had settled, like a barrier between them.

"Beckett should let us go soon, nothing more he can do."

Ah, he wouldn't ask. "Would you like to accompany me?"

"To the mainland?"

"Yes. I believe it would be beneficial for us both."

They looked at each other, for a thought-filled second and Ronon nodded. "You might be right."

The rustle of cloth made them both turn their head to the third occupied bed. Rodney was slowly swinging his legs on the left side of the bed, letting his feet rest against the ground.

"Rodney?" Worry tinted Teyla's voice. Seeing the scientist attempt to get up, swaying as he was, made her want to call out to the nurse on duty.

"Don't you say a word." McKay wasn't even looking in their direction; he'd simply raised a hand and pointed a finger at her.

The accusatory finger did not deter her from voicing her opinion. He was in no shape to be standing and yet he did, keeping a hand on the bed as he made his way to its foot. "I don't think you should –"

"In case you missed it earlier, I'll repeat myself. I. Don't. Care. What. You. Think."

The monotonous tone and failure to look at her as he spoke was a clear indicator of his state of mind. She and Ronon would be able to progress, to move on from this intensely difficult time, but Rodney... She feared she had undone their friendship with one fist. She understood him better after all they had been through, after listening to him speak to John, that night. It was useless knowledge if he refused to at least try to mend their relationship.

"McKay! Go back to bed!" Familiarity, tried and true methods couldn't fail them, could they?

"Piss off." Rodney was sweating heavily, the exertion from attempting to stay upright playing tricks on his body. He would get out of here, no matter what. Couldn't stand it anymore, being stuck with these two idiots. He wanted to be alone. Solitude was a haven, always had been. It was so hard to come by here that he had gotten used to being surrounded, so rarely left truly alone for any length of time. He had come to enjoy company; hated it now. To have Teyla and Ronon's presence forced upon him continually had certainly soured the whole concept.

Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Each one slid forward, barely lifting off the floor. He reached the door and it parted noiselessly. Home free! Rodney grabbed the doorway and pulled himself out of the room; made his way through the corridor leaning against the wall to stay upright. Reaching the transporter without encountering anyone, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Resting his head against the wall, he chose his destination.

"Gotta love these things." He patted the closed door affectionately. Science was his true love; Ancient technology his mistress. He exited slowly, still using the wall as a guide, his eyes closing of their own volition. He was tired, bone deep tired, but he hadn't been able to stand another minute spent with people! People! Urgh! They only brought trouble! Rodney McKay neither wanted nor needed anyone. He enjoyed his own company tremendously, thank you very much.

"Much simpler. I know _me_. Just me and my city, right beautiful?" Once again, he laid a caressing hand on the one what would never cease to amaze. He continued on his trek, the shuffle of his feet and the rustle of the ugly scrubs the only sounds he heard. Carson did it on purpose; any lengthy visit in the infirmary got him in the pea green scrubs. It amused the physician to be able to spite him like this, knowing Rodney despised the green coloured ones. He'd never said why and Carson continued to hand them over with a gleam in his eyes. Bad memories were just that, memories, and despite it all he understood Carson's motif; a complaining Rodney was a living one. He'd only woken up once in blue scrubs; after his stint in a sunken puddle jumper. He didn't care for blue scrubs much anymore, nor for white ones; scrubs were generally bad.

The corridors were completely deserted, as expected. No power was routed to this section but Rodney knew it well; knew the way to his hideout by heart, he'd been there much too often. His sanctuary, where he found a reprieve from life, or rather from death.

"Too many. Too many." The litany started as he neared what he thought had been a common room. Tall windows stretched from the floor to the ceiling; a padded area on the floor before them. He could lay, perpendicular to the windows and, tilting his head back slightly, see the sky and lose himself in the names, the faces, the people he had lost; before Atlantis and during the past two years.

He lowered himself slowly to sit, his back to the window, then lowered further, his head bumping slightly on the wall. He shimmied down to find a comfortable position. Once that was accomplished, he raised his sight to the heavens.

He thought of faces and voices he would never see or hear again. He looked at the sky and provided a name for a constellation. This one was officially known as A01, but would be Sheppard, to him. It seemed fitting, it was the centre one, the one upon which they had based their system. Rodney took in the others he had named, running the back of his hand over his eyes. He must've been more tired than he thought, his vision was blurring. He continued to lie on his back, admiring the night sky.

When they came, he was startled. One escaped him. A harsh exhalation, a pitiful sound. He fought, breathed in deeply and hoped they would go away.

They didn't

Pain-filled drops of salty fluid fell from his tightly shut eyes. Grief was translated to physical pain and he recoiled on himself trying to keep it at bay. His stomach contracted, his chest tightened, his nose leaked, his eyes drowned in watery manifestation of the sorrow he felt. He had to turn over, fearing he would choke on the sobs he tried so hard to contain. His arms, crossed on the floor, pillowed his chin and he lay on his stomach as it contracted with the effort of holding on to control. He watched the starry sky and the wavy ocean and remembered his dead.

When it had passed, the well had dried and memories had returned to their hiding place, he spoke. "Damn you, Sheppard." Exhaustion besieged him and he submitted to slumber with a bitter and heavy heart.


	20. Chapter 20

So, Angela, if it wasn't for you we'd have an auto-demoted Lt. Col. on our hands :)

**Notes:** I know, I know...sorry! Thank you for reading and commenting! Really! It's so nice! Now, let's get on with it, we have a team to reconstruct...eventually...(just a few chapters more, promise!)

**Trusted**

John sat, his back to the Sancta, pointedly _not_ looking at 'the other body' as it disintegrated. Lokas was puttering around the console, not doing much of anything, which was becoming increasingly intriguing.

"Lokas?"

The older man lifted his head and made an acknowledging sound.

"What's going on?"

Inquiring was not a good look for his interlocutor. It raised those red eyebrows halfway through the narrow forehead and made him look like a clown puppet John had owned as a kid. So much red hair! He'd hated that thing.

"I do not know what you mean…"

"What are we waiting for? Isn't that guard…Jusyta, going to wonder, if it takes too long?"

"Not at all, severance can take a considerable amount of time."

"Shouldn't we be starting?"

"We have." Lokas pointed at John. No, he pointed at the Sancta, behind, and unfortunately, John made the mistake to turn around.

"Oh shit!" He scrambled to his feet, trying to get as far away as possible from the sight before him. He couldn't help it; he vomited what little food he had ingested in the morning. Lokas was by his side, guiding him to the console, helping him sit, putting the Sancta firmly out of view.

"Apologies. I cannot imagine what a sight like this must cause in aggravation." He lifted his head to look in the direction of the device, filled with a pulp that had previously been John Sheppard's body. The pulp encircled the moulded plastic which still held a portion of his face. Only the left side from eye to chin remained, the rest having been sucked away. It was a gruesome sight which left even Lokas, who was somewhat accustomed to this process, quite unbalanced. He truly couldn't fathom how much horror he would feel were it his own body, but could certainly sympathise with the young man. He had seen and experienced so many things he should never have; things that had only resulted in great pain and anguish.

"That's…disturbing."

"Sit. Rest your head against the console."

"Shouldn't…I…be in there?" He just wanted it over and done with. Sitting and brooding could be good on a rainy Sunday afternoon but not here, in the blinding sun. He didn't want to think anymore, it hurt too much. Thoughts of what he'd lost, whom he'd lost. He couldn't go home, it was useless to entertain the notion, but GOD, this hurt like hell and there was nothing he could do. He'd take one of those Wraith bugs over this damn misery any day! His hand went to his neck and he revised his opinion.

"No." Lokas was certainly succinct. Bit less than O'Neill but still, succinct.

"How's that going to work? Don't I need to be in there for the severance?"

"You have been severed."

"I've not. I'd know."

"You do know. You were ill but a moment ago."

"Ok, you lost me. What's going on?"

"Life is not about retribution…a life for a life is a ridiculous notion that was held by my people for a time and I am saddened to say, it has come to haunt us once more. Life is to be valued, not discarded and I value yours as much as mine, John Sheppard."

"Ah…what?"

"You will not be severed today. If you are wise and stay away from Atle, you never will be."

"You're…letting me go?"

"You will be amongst your people within the day."

"Not that I'm complaining, but what about Oblee?"

Lokas paced in front of him. "As I have said, life is not about retribution. Your severance will not bring her back." He came to a standstill and turned to John. "Tell me, would you have taken her life?"

He thought about that for some time before answering honestly. "No. She was a good woman. A bit blinded by desperation, but good." Oh, the politically correctness of that statement! It would've made Elizabeth squeal in delight. That is, if Elizabeth would ever allow herself the indignity of squealing.

"Not unlike her, you are a good man. I bore ill will toward neither you nor your people. I am devastated by my sister's death, but had she not died that day, she would have been severed and I would have lost her just as effectively."

Flabbergasted would be a fitting word to describe how John felt at that precise moment. He was deeply impressed by the older man. "I. I don't…what about revenge?"

"Useless sentiment."

"I'm going home? Today?" Hope springs eternal right? If he didn't, his body sure believed it as some of the tension he had been feeling eased right out of his strung muscles.

"You are, assuming all goes according to prediction."

"Predictions?" That didn't sound good. Somewhat like McKay assuring you his plan would definitely work without the sneering. If you doubted the value of a good, workable plan, he'd rip your head off, but sometimes…sometimes, he wasn't so sure and would simply try to reassure you. At this moment, John's stomach decided this was the same thing and sunk.

"Loyalties can easily falter. I am predicting that the man I trust to complete this plan is in fact loyal to me. Please, do not concern yourself with such matters. I will need you to enter the Sancta."

Oh, it was too good to be true. Of course, Lokas hadn't been able to resist playing a cruel prank on the man who had basically killed his sister. John had always thought himself a good judge of character but obviously, it was yet another thing he had falsely believed. "This sucks big time!"

He was on the verge of tears again and how pathetic was that? He was a grown man, an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel damn it! He was not going to cry because, for one precious minute, he had thought he would be allowed to go back home. Stupid! He didn't cry, not now, not ever!

He sighed and nodded. Lokas moved to stand beside the console. "You will need to undress."

"Right. Should be used to it by now."

Undressed, he stepped into the Sancta and felt the clear material mould itself to him. Eager for life's last cruel twist to end, he closed his eyes and wished for death.

Conveniently enough…

…he didn't die this time either.

It took but a moment and he was released. Taken by surprise, John fell forward, too slow to avoid his nose from colliding roughly with the ground. Lokas was at his side, helping him up.

"You're letting me go!"

"I have informed you of this fact."

"I know. I just…" He looked back at the Sancta which had held him for a few minutes and attempted to suppress his grin. In combat with Death, he always came victorious!

"You thought I had lied."

"Yeah." He grinned sheepishly, wondering why he felt so comfortable with Lokas, a man he barely knew. Why did he feel safe to simply _be_?

"It is quite understandable; you have been given so few opportunities to trust my people and me." He clasped John's hand between his and looked at him earnestly. "I wish it to change. Sit with me a moment. It is time I help you redirect your thoughts."

"My thoughts?"

"You wished for death to claim you…often…have you not?"

His face told of the doubt he carried within so well that John wasn't given a chance to answer; Lokas simply tugged slightly on his arm and encouraged him to follow.

"I know…let me explain."

"Yeah, ok, but, ah, Lokas…you think I could get my clothes back?"

Lokas laughed and shook his head. "I am afraid you are within the veil, it is customary to go as freely as the day you were born for fifteen suns."

"As long as it lets UV rays through. I'll be able to work on my tan" His grin was closely followed by a shrug, in response to Lokas' blank look. He followed the man away from the circle of Sanctas, thinking he had to start adapting his witty retorts for this galaxy.


	21. Chapter 21

**Realisation**

Interesting experience. John sat, crossed leg, hands resting loosely on his lap. You just had to hide your…um…manhood, while sitting on the grass beside a man, force field or not. At Lokas' insistence, they'd taken a moment to talk before John had to pretend to be dead.

Nice plan the older man had; pretend John's dead body was being sent home out of respect. Simple. The only potential problem resided in Jusyta. If the guard wasn't as loyal as Lokas thought, he would alert the High House which would result in John's severance and a punished Lokas.

For now, they were talking. Rather, John was questioning and Lokas answering.

"What about the Celebrant woman…Mira."

"She is not a true Celebrant, simply took the role. It is easier to gain control of a community by instilling faith and directing it. She was on Atle to wait for you. The minute she laid eyes on you, she was to communicate with Oblee. We are left with many questions concerning the veil that held your companions. It had never been done with fully clothed individual, without them entering the Sancta, and we are certain they never set foot here. I do not fully understand how they came to be two of you. Our people have attempted to prove for many years that the body is truly a carrier, it is only the essence which must survive…that research was led by Oblee."

"Yeah, ok, that's all very mysterious, but Mira tried to burn my team and me."

"I am afraid she has come to enjoy power. Her perspectives are not as they should be but I am confident it is an obstacle she can overcome, as can you."

"Her perspectives! She tried to burn my team, alive! I'd say her perspectives are long gone."

"That may be so but it is not for you to judge. It will be dealt with in time."

"Yeah, psyche evaluation time…"

"I do not understand?"

"Doesn't matter. How come she looks like me?"

"We have a process, called reforming, which allows us to change our appearance in order to retain a youthful image. Shallowness is a common incentive to make use of it. It is quite painful…"

"A sick mind in a healthy body, how nice!" John's voice rose in volume and the words carried an unmistakable sarcastic bite.

"You are angry."

"Damn right I'm angry! You people are insane and you've put me through hell! I understand the carrier thing and I was supposed to do this…assemblage…but it's _my_ life." Realisation had sneaked up behind him and tackled him to the ground; he couldn't help but acknowledge it. It was still his life; no one had taken it away.

"The device makes you believe things which are incorrect." Lokas smiled, happy to witness an epiphany.

"What device!"

"The device Oblee used on you and I believe the others who carried Banee's essence…it manipulates the workings of the mind. Oblee made you believe dying was the right thing to do, did she not? It became your only purpose?" He interrupted himself and waited for John to confirm his suspicion. He only spoke once he had received a nod. "Even now, the doubts I believe you hold are not yours. It is the device's doing."

"She…drugged me?"

"I am unfamiliar with that term. However, I do know the device releases a short electrical current and targets the desired area of the mind. Again, it is something I am unfamiliar with, having never made use of it myself. Our society is decaying and you have been the victim of this situation. Youngsters are thirsty for knowledge, for new experiences…"

"What do I do now?"

"The effects are short-term, you must simply wait…"

"How short term! It's been days!"

"I am not certain but, with the veil, they will stop dissipating. Once the veil releases you, nature will run its course."

"I'll feel the effects for at least fifteen days." Great! A basket case for two weeks! That'd surely earn him quite a few visits with Heightmeyer! John wondered if she'd accept the drugged out of his mind excuse and cut him some slack.

"It is quite possible. How are you feeling or most precisely, what are you feeling?"

John thought for a moment. He had doubts about his person, felt worthless, wanted to die or at least thought he deserved to.., most of the time. His life…Banee would never be assembled for John was the last carrier. In a way, his destiny had changed had it not? His team had come and truly altered the course of his life. Still, didn't change the fact that he _was_ a carrier; that was or had been his only purpose. He was certainly confused and thoughts of his team only served to sadden him. Last he'd seen they were quickly heading towards dissolution.

"Bit depressed…" How strange that he would admit that so freely to a man he hardly knew and how ridiculously familiar was this scenario! He'd uttered this very remark less than a year ago.

"You chose to take your friend's place. Why?"

"I couldn't let him die!"

"You said you were already dead…"

"I was." He shivered as he thought of the section of his face he'd seen surrounded by the mush that had been his reasonably attractive self. He might've been dead but he was no slouch in the looks department…and why in the world was he thinking of his appearance at a time like this? He knew; it was easier, meaningless, shallow and that's the way he liked his feelings.

"Do you feel…lessened…by your status of carrier?" Lokas knew the answer but wanted John to say it.

"I…" He had to pause and reflect. Strange, he'd never been one for introspection before, too much to sort out. He didn't have the time, the strength nor the courage to deal with years of issues that had pilled up. "I suppose I do. Not lessened as much as…completely insignificant. My life never meant a thing."

"You are wrong. The carrier is not meant to know what they are. The essence only comes back when the carrier passes. You are whole. You are a man, just like any other man you have ever encountered."

"Yeah, I've met lots of people who had people's soul in them! How do I know all this wasn't a fluke! I'm here because I was supposed to be! I'm so…" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, looking for the right word, looking for the heart of the problem. "I have no control! My life is completely out of my hands!"

"You control everything, John Sheppard. I believe that is one of your biggest failings though it is not for me to evaluate. You proved your life is yours to shape and mould when you asked me to allow you to give it to save Mister Dex. You lead your destiny, it does not lead you."

Silence enveloped them like a warm blanket. It was comfortable, soothing and allowed their minds to find a semblance of peace.

"I'm not sure I really do…always improvising, risking lives, endangering the very people I swore to protect." He continued the thought only in his head. _Always making bad choices._

"You do what you can, of that I am certain. You are not perfect; no one is, no one can be. Live with your flaws, they make you who you are. I understand this must be a difficult time for you, but trust in yourself. The device's effects will soon cease and you will be free to regain your mind."

"It's hard to see past this."

"I know, I was young once, as difficult as it may be to believe…" He smiled slightly. "The ache that tears you from within will come to pass. Being amongst your people will help."

"Yeah." Doubtful. He wouldn't put more strain on his team's fragile nerves. Perhaps Carson had anti-depressants…he'd never been one for medication but he couldn't go on doubting himself!

"Trust in your friends if you cannot trust in yourself." Lokas stood and walked a few paces before turning back. "It's time for you to go back to them. Lay here, as still as you can. I will fetch Jusyta."

"Good luck."

"Thank you.., and might I be so bold as to say, it has been an honour to converse with you." The older man nodded and walked away.

John sighed. He bent his legs and rested his chin on his knees. He held little hopes that this would all be resolved simply, that the doubts were all from the device. He closed his eyes in an effort to shift the direction his moody mind was engaging. He thought of his team again, of the state of their relationship. No longer united. He wondered if this was the end of it all; no more missions, no more banter, no more communal meals. No more friends.

John walked back to the circle of Sancta and settled himself on the ground in the best imitation of Snow White the world had ever seen. So, he wasn't a woman…he had the black hair, the pale skin and had escaped death often enough. Zelenka and that tiny Japanese scientist could be his dwarfs. Right! Snow White and the Geeks! Ah! Good thing he didn't do therapy by cartoons anymore! For so long, he'd watched pointless, silly cartoons, favouring mindless Spiderman marathons whenever his life went to hell; good thing they had none in Atlantis, he'd be glued to the screen 24/7. Curse his mother for getting him hooked. Stifling a chuckle, for he still could find humour despite it all, he closed his eyes and waited to be taken home.

"They lived happily ever after…right?" Only the silence answered; he considered it an omen.

It never occurred to him to wonder why he wasn't running for the gate. It had always been his first instinct, to rely only on himself.


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks for the anger Angela :)

**Notes:** Someone on SGAHC deserves the credit for Sgt. Chuck the Canuck's name, though I can't remember who. If it's you, well thanks and here's the credit for that stroke of genius.

**Storming**

"Pain and no drugs make Rodney an unhappy man. Insane too, as I'm talking to myself."

No one could say Carson Beckett wasn't a good doctor; not even Rodney. He'd taken care of that gunshot wound like the pro he was; stopping the bleeding, dressing it beautifully and, this being the most important step, had given them drugs, good, nice, friendly drugs.

Regrettably, Rodney's system had processed those drugs and he found himself sitting on the padded area of his favourite room hurting like there was no tomorrow. He was attempting to decide whether pain was enough of an incentive to willingly go back to the populated area of the city as he looked through the immense windows at the sun rising over the ocean. It was quite beautiful, but as glum as he was feeling, he had difficulty appreciating it.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on the opinion one might have on the matter, he was found a short time later thus negating the need for decisiveness on his part. Soldiers came into the corridor guided by Zelenka's soft, musically accented voice.

"Life sign is in the third room to your left. Be careful, awaken a bear and you will not live to tell the tale."

"What?"

A voice, differently accented but no less pleasant, reached the soldiers' ears. "Rodney is likely to…bite your heads off. Be gentle, I'd like you all in one piece."

Swallowing nervously, the two grown men who, supposedly, had no fear edged closer to the door, careful to take quiet steps. Newly debarked from the Daedalus, they had been sent in the name of training, exploration and…

"At least we're not wearing red shirts."

"Man! What's that about! You turning into a geek now that you hang with scientists?"

Zelenka's voice drifted to them through the radio, slightly harder. "I resent that. Without scientists, you would not be here. By you, I mean entire human race."

"Sorry Dr. Zelenka, I didn't mean you." The soldier spoke earnestly though he smiled cheekily at his comrade. People were so easily wound up around these parts!

"Oh…of course not."

They were at the door now. Taking a deep breath, they opened it and stepped in. Whoever had decided that looks couldn't kill obviously hadn't had the chance to cower under Doctor Rodney McKay's glare. A new Ice Age was surely upon them if his tone was any indication.

"What are you doing here?" As cold as the deepest of oceans, the description fit the irate scientist perfectly.

Watching as the two grown, weapon-carrying men shrank back from a simple question only served to anger Rodney further. He rose with difficulty but did not let his gaze falter once. He took slow steps which brought him a foot from the soldiers. Lifting his left hand and pointing his index finger in their juvenile faces, he screamed for lengthy minutes. Nothing was left un-insulted; not their intelligence, career choice, lineage, mother and even hypothetical dislikes of MREs.

Then, it was over. Rodney walked out of the room and headed back to the city. The soldiers followed from a distance, as the Doctor was muttering under his breath and they had no wish to relive the traumatic experience to which he had just subjected them. They did, however, radio back to Doctors Zelenka and Beckett, informing them of this new development.

"Where is he headed?"

"Not sure. We'll advise once we know more."

Advise they did, for all the good it did the lovely Doctors. Beckett was wearing his knuckles raw attempting to convince Rodney to open the door. He could be heard moving around inside but stayed stubbornly silent. When doing the right thing showed no result, they resolved to take drastic measures.

"This is ridiculous! Why are we standing here like bloody Hoover salesmen! Can't you do something?"

Radek Zelenka was not Rodney's second for his charm and pleasant nature; he went to work on the door's control crystals and they broke in.

Rodney was sitting at his desk, fingers flying over his laptop's keyboard, a look of intense concentration mingling with barely restrained fury on his pale, sickly face.

"Rodney." Carson drew on his extensive experience with the man. He gentled his voice and moved slowly, as not to spook the beast. "You'll have to come back to the infirmary."

The typing continued smoothly, without faltering.

"It's for your own good. You need to be monitored for at least a day more. We don't know what the force field did to you…"

Click-click-clickety-click was the only answer Carson received. He tried a slightly forceful approach. Keeping his voice low and soothing, he spoke with more authority. "Now, Rodney, don't be difficult. You need to be in the infirmary."

Click-click-clickety-click.

Radek watched the two men involved in a battle of will and was unsure of who was the most stubborn. Sure, Rodney was openly obstinate, but when it came to his profession and the health of his patients, Carson could be utterly immovable.

"Listen to me. I don't want to see you hurt. You're not a child, don't do this. I won't mollycoddle you!"

Click-click-clickety-click made it all the way under the calm and collected skin of one increasingly impatient Scottish doctor. "Rodney! Do I have to contact Elizabeth?"

Click-CLICK-clickety-CLICK. Progress; typing with a tinge of ferocity indicating the subject hears and is indeed cognisant. Carson perked up slightly; he'd get through soon enough. "I will do it. I have no qualms about involving her. You need to be in the infirmary."

CLICK-CLICK-CLICKETY-CLICK.

As if a direct result of Rodney's angered typing, the klaxons sounded through Atlantis and Carson heard the familiar phrase in his head. Sgt. Chuck the Canuck, of the fierce patriotism, would be watching Elizabeth as she strolled out of her office and would speak the words, "It's so and so's IDC."

Carson forgot Rodney for the moment, bracing himself for what habitually followed. Not this time. The call for a medical team in the gateroom did not come and he breathed a bit easier. Back to the problem at hand.

"I don't have all day to suffer through one of your moods. You will come to the infirmary right this instant!" Tough-love; that's what the man needed and Doctor Beckett was more than happy to serve it up.

That triggered a reaction; a very loud, gesticulating, insulting, red in the face, spitting reaction. "Oh really? I have some news for you Carson Beckett! I WILL NOT be going to the infirmary or ANYWHERE with EITHER of you and if YOU don't leave MY QUARTERS right this INSTANT, I'll make you sorry YOU WERE EVER BORN! I KNOW things that could easily KILL YOU faster than you can BLINK! LEAVE, both of you, PITIFUL EXCUSES FOR SCIENTISTS! Or in your case Doctor Voodoo, PITIFUL EXCUSE FOR A MAN! Just looking at you is LOWERING MY IQ AND MY WILL TO LIVE!"

"There's no need for threats or insults, Rodney! I'm trying to do my job! You've had a hard time and I…we worry!"

Carson and Zelenka nodded in tandem, looking for all the world like two blue eyed, lab-coated bobble heads. Rodney's rant was rudely interrupted by Elizabeth Weir's urgent communication.

"Medical team to the gateroom! Medical team to the gateroom!"

"On my way." Carson was already at the door, he turned and gave Rodney they evil eye. "Radek will accompany you to the infirmary. I expect to see you there on my return or I will send Major Lorne after you!"

"YOU DO THAT!" Rodney paid no attention to Radek and went back to his work.

"Rodney, you should listen to Doctor Beckett. He is only trying to help."

"Radek. Shut up."

"Really, it would be best if you simply…"

"RADEK! HOW STUPID ARE YOU THAT YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND TWO SIMPLE WORDS! I SAID SHUT UP!"

Zelenka raised his hands in capitulation. "Fine! I will not stand here all day and argue with you. Expect Major Lorne!" He left in a huff of annoyance. Why was it that Rodney was so difficult to deal with? How could he not see they were only trying to help? Always angry, screaming at them to leave him alone! Didn't he see they couldn't, they wouldn't…not for long in any case.

As he walked down the corridor, away from the chamber of Hell, as Rodney's quarters were known, Radek felt the treacherous hand of guilt hit him viciously in the stomach. He should attempt to bring Rodney to the infirmary; the man shouldn't be left alone.

The sounds of heavy combat boots hitting the floor at a rapid pace stopped Radek and demanded he turn around to appraise the situation. Four soldiers, led by Major Lorne, were descending on the chamber of Hell. It took but a moment and Rodney was brought out kicking and screaming, as red-faced as ever.

Radek followed worriedly all the way to the infirmary where he witnessed something he never thought possible. Doctor Rodney McKay, of the numerous PhDs and foul disposition, became filled with more rage than his body could endure. He shook, his face went from fire engine red to ambulance white and the sheer volume of words that attempted to exit from his mouth resulted in a garbled choke

Through it all, though numerous eyes were locked on the temperamental physicist, his blue only met hazel. The relieved, amused, then concerned gaze of Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard held him until his body gave up the fight against overwhelming fury. Perhaps incredible joy managed to take place in the fray of emotions but it went unnoticed, vastly outnumbered. As his legs gave up, forcing him to rely on Major Lorne's exemplary gravitational control, Rodney's mind settled on a final thought, followed by a string of expletive.

"Oh HELL NO! I don't believe this. You fucking moronic, self-sacrificing, heartless BASTARD. You died _again,_ then, oh surprise, you're ALIVE! Sorry, Colonel, been there, done that, was SHOT IN THE LEG! What are you anyway, a damn Replicator! You can't COME BACK FROM THE DEAD every other day, without a scratch on your incredibly INFURIATING, idiotically grinning face as if nothing happened. NO! What you can do is GO TO FUCKING HELL!"

He stormed out of the infirmary, choosing to ignore the angered voices that shouted his name.


	23. Chapter 23

Angela, you are a goddess!

**Notes:** We're getting there! Thanks for reading and commenting!

**Revelation**

"What the hell was that?" John had expected his homecoming to be a bit difficult, to find his team in disarray, but this was overly dramatic. He eyed Ronon, Teyla and Carson inquisitively.

"He's not well." Carson attempted to examine the Colonel despite the force field. As with Teyla, Rodney and Ronon, he couldn't gain access to John's body. Frustrated Carson resorted to placing a blanket on his shoulders and hoped it would stay; if only to preserve the man's modesty. All the while, his thoughts were on Rodney and the pressure he was putting on his body; it had been through excessive amount of stress since their arrival in this forsaken galaxy. Rodney would surely die of a heart attack, despite all the dangers they encountered on missions, he would be his own demise. "Major Lorne, can you bring him back? He'll kill himself, the bloody fool."

John grabbed the edge of the blanket, wrapping it around himself for warmth and cover. "Kill himself!"

"His blood pressure is sky-rocketing, that's certain." The Doctor moved to his medication stock and came back with a filled syringe. He stood by John's bed, facing the vacant one on the left.

"LET ME GO YOU UGLY PRIMATES."

Carson took this as his cue and moved to stand at the foot of the empty bed, watching passively as the soldiers dragged a more than reluctant Rodney into the infirmary. "Rodney. Calm down." He indicated the bed and the soldiers forced McKay onto it. Idiotically, they released him and of the many things Rodney was considered to be, idiot was far down the list. Therefore, taking advantage of his freed limbs, he got to his feet, pushed the soldiers out of the way, shoved Carson to the side and headed for the door.

"Rodney!" Carson was at the end of his rope. He understood how distressing this could be for a man like Rodney, who felt everything with such intensity, but he needed him to calm down in the briefest of delays. If it meant using slightly humiliating tactics, then that's what he would do. "Get him on the bed and hold him down. Careful with the left leg, it'll hurt if you put too much pressure there."

The soldiers grabbed Rodney's scrubs-clad frame once more and wrestled him back to the bed. Two soldiers held his upper body firmly and the two others did the same to his legs, though heeding Caron's advice, realising that adrenaline alone was keeping McKay from feeling the pain a gunshot always left behind.

"GET OFF ME! GET OFF!" Rodney struggled and his captors increased the pressure on his limbs. Strong hands attached to powerful bodies; he was no match for them but he fought nonetheless.

Carson slowly approached the bed, syringe held high in plain sight. When he spoke, his voice was soft, gentle, cajoling. Tough-love hadn't worked earlier and it certainly wouldn't do any good now. "Rodney, you need to calm down. I don't want to sedate you…"

"Are you THREATENING me, BECKETT? Ooooooh, big BAD DOCTOR with his big bad NEEDLE!" The words were spat out. The eyes shone with defiance and intense dislike.

"I'm not threatening you. You'll only be hurt if you don't calm yourself down. Just stop struggling, stop shouting and take a few deep breaths." Carson hoped he would capitulate. Seeing him so out of control was like a dagger through his heart. He felt useless when faced with such behaviour. He had only concern, comfort and the presence of a friend to offer.

"I'LL CALM DOWN WHEN HE'S OUT OF MY SIGHT!" From his perch atop the infirmary bed, relentless in his fight to free himself of the restraining hands that pushed him down, Rodney glared at John with open hostility.

"Don't look at him if he bothers you. Close your eyes and take deep breaths." A doctor never wanted to feel so useless, giving silly advice and spouting platitudes. A friend couldn't tolerate powerlessness, when faced with such hurt.

"Rodney! Lie down and shut up!" John had to get in there. He knew how to handle him. So Rodney was angrier than he'd ever seen him; didn't mean he wouldn't do as he was told. Carson was usually able to get him to yield but he was doing it all wrong. A swift kick in the arse was what the man really needed. You couldn't be nice to Rodney when he behaved like this, when he...lost it.

"DON'T YOU SPEAK TO ME, SHEPPARD! DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE! I'll BREAK YOUR NECK AND BE DONE WITH IT! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

Carson frowned at John as he took a step closer to Rodney's bed, laying a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Colonel, please don't antagonise him."

Rodney attempted to shrug off the warm, comforting hand but he was held down too firmly. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to be screaming like this. He wanted Carson to sedate him so he wouldn't have to hate himself for what he was doing. Obstinately, he continued screaming and struggling; waiting, wishing, pleading with all his being for Carson to empty the needle of its sleep-filled nectar into his aching flesh. He couldn't deal with his thoughts and feelings. Afraid, angry, alone; beleaguered, betrayed, baleful; cussed, cynical, chaotic. He could continue on, in precise alphabetic order and still would not have enough words for everything he felt, everything he embodied at that precise moment. He was obsessed with the knowledge that John would die again, sooner rather than later, and it tore him apart. The complete elation his homecoming caused was shadowed by utter despair; he didn't want John to be back, he'd only disappear, he always did. Curse the man for intruding upon his life. Invulnerable, he wanted to be truly untouchable. He'd had enough hardship; enough of people who abandoned him, enough of losing those he cared for.

"Rodney, you need to calm down. It'll be fine if you do. You don't need to scream like this. Can you calm down just a little? Close your eyes, breathe and it'll be over." Slightly squeezing the shoulder his hand rested upon, Carson attempted to subdue him with kindness. He saw the pleading look that danced fleetingly over Rodney's face and decided to give him the sedative, unwilling to shackle him with restraints. That would be the ultimate insult, the sign that he was truly unmanageable. By sedating him, they could pretend he had simply fallen asleep, wouldn't have to acknowledge there was a problem, not until he woke. Rodney was not listening and whether he couldn't or he wouldn't was of no consequence. Ultimately, it would lead to harm. "Hold him down, keep his arms still."

Rodney struggled, carrying on with the charade, because he couldn't do otherwise, because his body was so full of unwanted turmoil that he had to let flow out in a torrent of insults and forceful, stilted movements. Carson plunged the needle in the pale skin and deeper to the muscle. He emptied it of its content and waited, watching McKay's face slacken, his eyelids flutter and finally, sleep overcame him and he relaxed completely. Carson thanked the soldiers as they left, but for Major Lorne who couldn't hide his concern. He might not have liked Doctor McKay when first they had met, but he certainly didn't wish him any harm.

"Is he gonna be okay, Doctor?"

"He'll be fine, but asleep for some time. Thank you for your help, Major."

Lorne nodded to Carson, Teyla and Ronon, saluted his CO informally and turned to exit the infirmary. John's voice stopped him.

"Nobody needs to know about this, Major." His meaning was clear; the hard edge to his voice told of the unpleasantness that would befall his team was the story of Doctor McKay's inflicted sedation made to be known around Atlantis.

"Of course, Sir." Not that he needed to be told. Lorne was not the kind of man who enjoyed another's pain. He turned and exited the room under his CO's thoughtful gaze.

Carefully manoeuvring his blanket so he would remain covered, Sheppard turned and stretched out on the bed. "Anybody care to fill me in?"

Teyla started to explain what had happened in the last two weeks. They had been reunited with the Colonel for a few days, but sleeping from a draining fever he had been unaware of Rodney's descent into the depth of despair. All this emotionality made her somewhat poetic but words failed her when it came to speak of the problem at hand. "Rodney is…"

"Crazy." Ronon's mind and speech were free of any poetical influence. Quietly, he had gained a new respect for words and considered his choice to be precise, concise and befitting.

"Ronon." The disapproving tone and chastening look plainly expressed Teyla's disaccord of her team-mate's command of the spoken word.

John smiled despite himself. They were home, safe and sound. Nothing had changed between Ronon and Teyla, they had the same dynamic. He would mesh seamlessly with them as he had before. It left only Rodney.

"He has not been well since our mission to Atle. He is…"

"Crazy." Ronon nodded convincingly. He wondered why she skittered around the issue; deliberate vagueness was not like her. She was purposefully seeking a different word, as if telling the truth would only make it worst.

"…angry."

"He's angry?" The answer was unacceptable. John knew angry McKay and this performance had not been it. That had been hostile, hateful, feral McKay. "It's not anger. There has to be something more for him to get like _that._" John indicated their friend slack from forced drowsiness. There simply had to be something wrong. Something he didn't know, something he hadn't seen.

There was and it was obvious enough. "It's stress, Colonel. It was bound to happen, I'd told him to be careful, take a few days for himself and that was before the force field and your..." Carson's hand fluttered, as if to grasp the right word out of the air.

Teyla was forced to wonder when speaking had gotten so hard for them and so easy for John, who completed Carson's sentence with a slight lift of eyebrow. "Death?"

"Aye, your death. But, he doesn't listen, think's he's a bloody robot, keeps going and going with no regards for his health. He'll work himself to an early grave."

"That can't be all stress and missing a vacation or two." Worry hid within the golden flecks of Sheppard's irises. He wanted to reach out and touch; to get off his bed, cross a few feet and place his hand on his Rodney's arm. Pat-pat; it'd be over and he would get back to bed, the compelling need to soothe, or be soothed, dissipated. He couldn't; not here, where life was relatively normal. Comfort was something you offered in the field, when things went wrong and fear took reason away. A pat, a squeeze, a warm hand on a cold shoulder; they'd come later, when speaking wasn't enough anymore. For now, he would safeguard his doubtful secrets, his need for reassurance, beneath the reliable Sheppard façade.

Carson gave him a hard look. "He doesn't enjoy seeing a friend die again and again."

"Hey! That wasn't my fault!"

The physician's face softened at the vehemence of the reply "I know it wasn't Colonel. I'm just telling you why he's like _that_. It's the push that he needed to go over the edge. He's exhausted."

So, Carson was worried, very worried and John wasn't wholly encouraged. "Alright, he's having trouble dealing. Shouldn't he be happy to see me? I mean, if he's so _upset_ I died!"

Teyla shuffled on her bed, glancing quickly at Ronon. It was all there, in John's innocent question. Memory supplied a soft voice, divulging thoughts that were never meant to be shared. Rodney's whispered _I hate you John_ haunted her. It came riding on a wave of guilt and she wanted to tell him, tell this man that their friend was lost, that he was suffering because of him, but she couldn't. She didn't say a word and let the guilt of knowledge eat away at the joy she felt from John Sheppard's presence. She feared they would never regain their prior closeness; the bounds had been too severely damaged. She'd hit Rodney and it had only aggravated his withdrawal. Guilt heightened and tore at her. It translated into physical pain and she couldn't help the wince that stressed her usually serene features.

Ronon had no such guilt. He had tried being quiet, it was worked for him if for no one else, but there was no need for it now, he could regain his stance, his world was no longer falling apart. That was the faith he had in Sheppard; he would set this right, could face McKay and make him listen. He found himself comforted in sharing the medical space of Atlantis with his strange family; a family in need of truth, in need of trust, in need of repairs. He believed in them all; they'd see this through, as they did the rest. He ignored Carson's presence for he was the soul of discretion and, Ronon had come to learn these last few days, a friend to McKay. "He doesn't like you much."

"Ronon!"

"You heard him." His eyes locked on Teyla and she could only lower her gaze. They had both witnessed the late-night confession.

"How come he doesn't like me much? What does that mean!" John wasn't one to care about being liked, being accepted. He did, however, care about this man. His gaze strayed once again to the prone form of his best friend. They'd been through so much together. He liked Rodney, he liked having him around and it pained him to hear that perhaps it was not reciprocated. He thought they had an understanding; each was the other's crutch. They were rough, they were brutally honest, they had no need for politeness and it worked. It _worked_.

"That's what he said."

"When!"

"A few nights ago."

"He told you he didn't like me!"

"He told you."

"He didn't, I'd remember that!"

"You were dead."

"It might be best if you and Rodney discuss this." Teyla felt it wasn't their story to tell, this should be settled between the two men involved.

"Rodney's out of commission right now, Teyla. If there's something wrong with one in my team, I need to know. I'm still…we're still. I'm team leader…right?" Damn those doubts, making him insecure, making him ask ridiculous questions. He couldn't help it, what if Elizabeth had appointed someone else since he'd been thought dead. It hadn't been that long, but life had to go on when people died. To his great relief, and pleasure, Teyla looked properly scandalised.

"Of course! John, we would not follow another!"

"Now that we've got you trained, we can't deal with someone who thinks he can order us around." Ronon's smile was playful, speaking of another man who lived deep within the warrior.

"Jeee, thanks." Sheppard was ridiculously happy to have kept his standing as team leader, to havehis team. All that was left to do was put it back together. "So we're clear, I give the orders around here." He smirked, content to be with them and pick up the friendly teasing, the silly conversations, but he was quickly reminded of the problem at hand by a loud snort echoing from his left. "Now, you guys tell me what this is all about. This not liking me thing…"

Ronon shrugged; it was up to Teyla. She knew exactly what to say, knew what had pushed Rodney to say all these things. He'd had no choice. "He could not do otherwise. You are very important to him, to us all, and when you died…" She sighed, trying to arrange her thoughts. "He fell apart. Lying there…beside your body. It was difficult, draining. He could not…he hated you because that is all he could do."

They fell silent, each reflecting on the situation. Carson stood beside Rodney's bed, shifting the sleeping man's legs and covering him with the thin blanket. Wanting to do more, he needlessly fluffed his pillow and gently guided his head to its centre. As he had done only a few hours before, he pulled the blanket to his chin, effectively tucking him in. He felt John's eyes on him and smiled, caught in actions that went beyond the call of duty.

"He didn't mean it, what he said earlier. It was –"

A wave of hand cut Carson's explanation "Yeah, I know."

Carson moved away from the bed. "You should sleep now." He watched them as they settled into their beds quietly. He nodded and left for his office, they'd had enough excitement to last the day.

John lay on his side, his gaze roaming over Rodney's restful face. "I'll fix this Rodney. It'll be fine," he thought, as his heart tightened. Childish impulses had him rubbing his eyes roughly, pretending it was the dryness of the infirmary that made them water. John Sheppard had not become a soft touch and he refused to acknowledge that he had more than the right to be rattled by the turn his life had taken of late.

Doubts, pernicious little devils, crept back quietly, snickering at the opportunity to lay assault to John's mind. "You'll be taken off-duty and really lose your team. You're a useless pathetic weakling and he doesn't like you. He_ hates _you. He wishes you dead. You should've died…" John fought the doubts with Lokas' words, holding on to them like a salvation. He'd fix this, he had to!


	24. Chapter 24

Oh you so know you're the best!

**Notes:** Alrighty, we're almost done here, a chapter or two left I believe! Thank you so very much for reading and being so wonderfully encouraging! Yay you!

**Attempt**

Rodney slowly surfaced, groggy and disoriented. One eyelid peeled back and allowed a blurry world to appear.

"Infirmary." He mumbled, attempting to gain purchase on the sedative's pull.

"Good guess."

Carson's cheerful voice towed him all the way to wakefulness. He blinked blearily and his memory provided unwanted images of a struggle, a needle and shouting, his enraged shouting. Rodney turned his head from one side to the other, noting the emptiness of his surrounding, save for Carson who stood by the bed an unsure smile and a hovering hand at the ready.

"Wher' the others?"

"Supposed to be in their rooms, as I've told them to take it easy but I hear the Colonel's doing his rounds." Carson was encouraged by Rodney's apparent calmness.

"Huh. Can I go too?"

"Soon, we'll just have a little chat before you do."

"Carson…" Annoyed, impatient, pleading. Rodney had no wish to stay and chat with his doctor but he would most likely be kept here until he did. He had to admit that he'd rather it be Carson than Kate.

"Didn't I tell you to take it easy? What did you think you were doing, sneaking out of the infirmary and going to the other side of the city?"

The man shrugged, unwilling to say what his motives had been. You couldn't tell people, no matter how close you were to them, or how understanding they could be that you had left to cry like a little girl.

"I know it's been a difficult time, but I don't ever want to have to sedate you that way again, Rodney. You'll be on light duty until I'm satisfied you've rested enough, and I mean light. No trips to the lab, no spending hours on your laptop in your room. You need to rest."

"But Carson! I can't stop working just like that!"

"You can and you will. I've advised Elizabeth and Doctor Zelenka knows to call me if you show up at the lab. You won't do it on your own, I've no other choice."

Panic slowly crept up on him. It came in a tightening of stomach muscles, in a shortness of breath, in a whiz of alarming thoughts. What was he to do without his work? What would he concentrate on, what would prevent him from facing a situation he so badly wanted to avoid? The mortifying rising of a lump in his throat catapulted him into anger once again.

"Carson, damn it, you can't do that!" The glint and narrowing of his eyes, the noticeable tensing of his body, the thin set of his mouth, those signs were like klaxons blaring out a warning.

Fully prepared for this switch, Carson handled Rodney with a practiced, forceful yet gentle hand. It would work this time, he had a head start, would not allow Rodney to get himself into a full-blown rant and infuriate himself further.

"Rodney, just give it a try will you? Light duties' not the end of the world, if there's something that absolutely requires your attention you can jump in. I'll recommend it for three days and we'll see then."

"Everything absolutely requires my attention here! Haven't you met the bunch of morons I work with?"

"I have and they're quite capable of handling themselves. Zelenka's done a fine job of it in your absence and there's no reason why he can't go on. There's no crisis, he can handle it."

"They're likely to create a crisis!"

"They're not." Carson breathed in deeply, attempting to keep his impatience in check. "Rodney, it's just for a few days. It'll do you good to putter around, less pressure." He was slightly startled when Rodney's body slackened all at once, the defiant tilt of his chin lowering into repentance.

"I can't, Carson. I have to do something…"

"There's naught to be done, everything's under control."

"It's not! I'm not under control! I have to stay busy! Don't do this, I'll rest today! I'll be in my room resting all day. I'll even stay here and rest but don't put me on light duty for days! I don't want to putter around! I can't!" Desperation rippled through his voice making it waver.

Carson placed a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder and bent forward slightly so he could look straight into his eyes. "You'll be fine. You can stay here if you want, I'll be around…" There was nothing the doctor in Carson could do; he had examined, healed and medicated all he could, now the friend needed to take charge. He hoped Rodney would agree to stay, he truly needed the rest and he would be sure to get it in the infirmary. Having him near would allow Carson to check up on him often, something that would undoubtedly be beneficial to both.

"I…no…not that this isn't a charming little place, but I much prefer my beds far away from sick people. There's no telling what I could catch staying around here too long!"

Straightening up, Carson squeezed slightly before releasing Rodney's shoulder. "I'll ask you not to be condescending toward my infirmary, it's perfectly safe!"

"Yeah, sure, just like you're not the biggest mommy's boy this side of the galaxy."

"Oy, keep me Mum out of this!" He smiled and Rodney did the same, easing into their usual ridiculous barbs. This was familiar. A step brought him far enough to allow space for Rodney to manoeuvre himself off the bed.

"Clothes?" A raised eyebrow and an extended hand affirmed Rodney McKay, insufferable pain, had returned.

"You're resting today, you can very well do that in scrubs. Plus, that's such a nice colour on you!"

"Clothes!" Snapping fingers were always a good sign of mental stability, for Rodney at least.

Though Carson was still immensely concerned, he was comfortable with letting Rodney believe they would not discuss his actions further. If the scientist wanted to return to their normal communications, he would not argue, not today. Sighing deeply, theatrically hassled, Carson went to recuperate a dirty, thorn, bloody, smoke – and other more unpleasant things – smelling uniform. He handed it over with a twitch of his nose to make his disgust obvious. "Can't see why you would want to put these on again."

"Well you wouldn't, would you, seeing how you spend most of your days in pyjamas!"

"Don't be ridiculous man, you wear a lab coat just as often as I!"

"Do not!"

"Sure you do! Don't think you've got me fooled, I know you like them and I know why."

"Please, do tell, oh fashionably challenged one."

"Deep pockets hold more sweets." Carson allowed himself a cheeky grin, for he knew it to be the truth and, judging by the sputtering, he'd hit a bull's-eye.

"Keep my candy out of this! You of all people should know I need it to keep my blood sugar levelled!"

"Aye, that's why you carry half your Cadbury stash around. Nothing to do with that sweet, milky, melt in your mouth goodness that, let me tell you, is doing quite a number on your arteries and heart, putting your system in a bit of a bind. Hence, rest." It was truly amusing to see Rodney's eyes glaze over and teeth sink into his bottom lip, longing taking hold of him at the mere thought of chocolate. Like an addict…and what a bad trail of thought that was, bringing back images of another out of control Rodney. It seemed too much had happened in such a short time and Carson desperately wanted to get through to his friend; he needed rest, or stress would do much worst than enrage him beyond control.

"Fine…fine, rest. One whole day of rest then I'll get back to work."

"I didn't agree to that. Three days, limited lab and laptop exposure, then we'll see."

"Carson!"

"Three days, Rodney. You need and deserve them."

"This is punishment isn't it? You're making me suffer for being incredibly superior in all aspects?"

"If you want to delude yourself, you're more than welcome to, but three days of rest it is." Carson took a moment to bring their conversation to serious levels. "This isn't a bad thing, Rodney. I'm not working against you."

"Way to patronise, Carson. Now, I'm getting out of here and leaving your horrific taste behind." Rodney stumped to the washroom, as much as one could stomp on slippered feet, to change out of the hated garments.

Carson watched him go, amused despite the harsh circumstances. He moved to his desk and turned on his equipment, intent on preparing himself for what could hopefully be a peaceful day of research. A minute later, he heard steps drawing closer.

"I'll go now…"

"Have a…restful afternoon Rodney."

"Oh, ha ha! Your comedic skills are astounding!"

"That's very kind of you! Let me know if there's anything. I'll be here…"

"Yeah…ok…" Rodney shuffled from one foot to the other. "Carson?"

Keeping his back to Rodney, arranging his papers, Carson made a distractedly acknowledging sound. He heard the hesitation in the voice that had spoken his name, heard the shuffling feet and knew that whatever Rodney was to say, he'd say it more comfortably if he was apparently semi-ignored.

"I…thanks…"

The squeaking sounds of sneakers soles hitting the ground grew fainter as Rodney hurried out of the infirmary.

"You'll be fine Rodney…" Carson could only hope Rodney knew he had resources, people ready to listen, to help, when the going got tough.

Rodney quickly made his way to his room, desperate to get out of his reeking clothes but was accosted by a grinning Colonel who was very happy to get in his way.

As Rodney took one step to the right, the Colonel took one to the left, keeping him firmly in Rodney's path. They did the dance for a few seconds, John waiting for Rodney to crack.

"Damn it, Sheppard!" Rodney's hands landed squarely on Sheppard's shoulder and he was roughly shoved out of the way, colliding with the wall with a startled humph.

"Watch it!" Pushing himself off the wall, John regained his stance and rose to his full height, attempting the intimidating pose.

"You're naked!" Trust Rodney to concentrate on the important things.

Tightening his toga, Sheppard had to rethink his 'intimidate McKay until he yields' plan. "I'm togaed!"

"Why the hell haven't you dressed?"

"I can't, there's this force field thing!"

"Yes well, if the blanket stays on, somewhat, why wouldn't clothes?" The "idiot" was left unsaid but clearly implied by the tone.

Dumbfounded, Sheppard felt a full body blush spread over him. "I..." He hadn't thought about that, hadn't even attempted to dress. He blamed the man whose company he was blessed with and…he wouldn't allow himself to be sidetracked. "That's not the point! What was that freak out in the infirmary, McKay? What's wrong with you!"

"Oh please, don't even try! Leave me alone." Rodney walked around the blanketed man and continued on to his room.

"McKay! Hey! McKay! I'm talking to you!" He watched as his best friend continued walking away with long strides that quickly took him to the nearest transporter.

"Wait up! McKay!" He ran to catch up but was too late. The doors slid shut as he reached for the panel and promptly reopened to empty space. "Damn Rodney, why do you always make everything so difficult!" He just wanted to have a talk with him, get all the animosity out in the open, deal with it and get his whole team back. Choosing the transporter nearest to the quarter's area, he hoped Rodney would at least listen, just this once.

Of course he didn't. No, Rodney McKay could never make life easy for one increasingly irate John Sheppard.

"Rodney, damn you stubborn son of a bitch, open the door!"

"Go away!" The voice was slightly muffled by Atlantis' walls, but the edge it carried pierced through the metal to reach John's ears.

"I'm not going anywhere until you've opened this door and we've talked this through!"

"What are you, a woman?" There was a pause as both men's mind delivered a Technicolor representation of a certain Celebrant. "We have nothing to talk about. GO away!"

John took in a deep, grounding breath and brought out the big guns, figuratively of course, though he was tempted to take a stunner to the man's head. Let's see how far he'd run, paralysed! "I know what you said, Rodney! I know you don't like me! We have _that_ to talk about! Can't have my team members' panties in a twist!" He winced; speaking the words was more painful than hearing them. His effort paid off, the door opened in a swish which a booming voice drowned out.

"You want to talk about that, do you? Fine! Let's talk! You're an asshole, Sheppard, and the worst kind too, the kind that's actually likeable enough to make people forget what incredible amount of crap he forces them to put up with!" Rodney poked a hard finger on his chest. "I'm not going to forget this time! I've had enough of you and your stupid stunts and your smartass comments! I can't deal with it anymore! I want off the team and I want you to go away and leave me the fuck alone!"

The door swished closed before John could react. Granted, he could've attempted to open it himself or at the very least contacted Zelenka, but he wanted to be allowed in.

"McKay! McKay! Open the door, we're not done here! You are NOT off the team! No way in hell!"

Silence. Rodney sat on his bed, waiting.

"McKay!"

Silence. Waiting for Sheppard to give up.

"McKay!"

Running a hand through his hair, John took a calming breath; he abused those whenever an insanely annoying genius was in the vicinity. He wasn't going to dramatize, it was fine, Rodney said things he didn't mean all the time, he was childish like that. He untangled his fingers from his untidy locks and brought them to the door. A soft knock and cajoling words could perhaps get through to Rodney, tell him that John wasn't angry anymore, he was giving up, he simply wanted to come in and have a friendly chat. "Come on, open the door. You're a fair man, you've said your piece, let me say mine" He waited patiently, rapping his knuckles against the metal producing a small grating sound. "Open the door. You're pissed, I get it. It's fine, be pissed…just give me a minute, okay?"

Rodney didn't. He sat on his bed until the sound stopped, until the voice no longer spoke. He was left to reflect on the last words it had let out before a fist hit the metallic barrier that protected him from the rest of Atlantis.

"Rodney…this isn't over."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes: **Apologies for the delay! Only one chapter left! Thank you for reading and commenting :)

**Rectitude**

"Hey…" John stepped carefully in the quiet, darkened lab. "Back on duty?"

"No." Rodney answered glumly, not even attempting the pretence of diligent work. It was time for Sheppard and him to talk. That man was nothing if not persistent and Rodney found he couldn't begrudge him his almost-death anymore. He was still wary of allowing any of his team too close, knowing far too well how much it would hurt were they to leave him, but he could be civilised. Of course, the fact that his appointments with Heightmeyer would probably stop if he got past what she viewed as his "fear of meaningful social connections" was weighing heavily in the balance.

"Ah, then, what are you doing here?" John came further in the room, encouraged by Rodney's apparent acceptance of his presence. He'd found himself in this part of the city on a fluke. He'd been wandering aimlessly, furious at himself for his introspective tendencies. He'd mostly put the doubts to rest but they crept up on him once in a while. He was not prone to be overly emotional or self-aware so it was easy to shut it all out, but tonight he hadn't been able to sleep. Memories of Oblee, of what she'd said about them, of their purpose as carriers, of their deaths, had flooded him and he'd needed to get out of his room, to occupy his time. He supposed his feet knew the way to McKay's lab by now, so often had he come here to pull the man out so he'd sleep before a mission, to check up on him before going to bed or simply be bothersome.

"Working."

"Empty labs, no one to kick you out, huh?"

"Yeah…" Rodney's sigh spoke volumes. Ten days of light duty was too much. Of course, Carson hadn't been true to his word. He'd said three! Rodney disregarded the fact that's he'd been caught working on a smuggled laptop at the end of the third day and had been subjected to a rant to end all rants. He'd hardly understood a word, the Scot's accent thickening as he scolded him severely for what was supposedly a blatant disregard for his health. He'd been taken completely off-duty for another three days, threatened with a one-way ticket to the mainland and finally, _finally_, after many truly traumatic days where he'd had zilch to occupy his time, had been allowed a few hours in the lab. Though, to his great horror, it had worked. He did feel much better: rested, relaxed and in control.

These late night excursions were best left unmentioned. Apparently, Carson's influence didn't stretch to spies at three o'clock in the morning. Only Sheppard would be around at this time, the man was on a permanent sugar high.

"Working on anything interesting?"

"Everything I work on is interesting!"

"Ok, working on anything _I _might care about?"

The slumping shoulders and pouting mouth were answers enough. "No…just…puttering…"

"Puttering?" John didn't attempt to hide his grin. Interesting choice of word and certainly not something Rodney ever did. He was always on some quest, his thirst for information unquenchable.

A long, painful sigh came before words, this was a night for extreme discontent. "I'm locked out of almost every system."

"Smart guy like you should be able to get in."

"Of course I can get in!" Rodney glared at a smirking Sheppard. "I just…they'll know and tell Carson…"

"The hand of Medicine Man is far reaching."

"No kidding."

Silence intruded rudely upon the conversation. Rodney rested his elbow on his desk and laid his chin on an outstretched hand. Sheppard drew closer, leaning back against the same desk. It felt…normal.

Unfortunately, it wasn't, not quite. The players were there but the rules had changed. "You're not leaving the team are you?" A cautious question, spoken timidly, so unlike John's usual straightforward manner.

Rodney's eyes dropped to the metallic glimmer of his workstation, fascinated with its shiny appearance. He frowned, noticing the fingerprints, the smudges. His desk was filthy and this was absolutely not the time for such contemplation. He's just set Miko to the task in the morning. Returning his considerable intellect to the matter at hand, he answered quite eloquently. "I don't know."

"Don't." It was all there in the quietly spoken word; a plea, a demand, vulnerable in its tone yet unyielding in its nature.

"It's too…I wasn't…" He took in a deep breath, straightened up and the defensive walls fell into place. He could be civil, didn't mean _sentimentality_ had to be involved. "Look, can we not do this? I'll stay on the team, I'm obviously its most qualified member, and if I leave it up to anyone else, we'll never get a ZedPM or any type of weapons against the Wraith. So, there you go, Colonel, team's intact, you can resume your tactical planning and whatnot."

"Come on, McKay, you and I both know it's not that easy."

"It is if we want it to!"

"Rodney…" _Brace yourself_, John's mind advised noting the hackles rising on its opponent, _you're in for a bumpy ride_.

"What! What? What now, eh? What's this _Rodney_ for? What have I done!" He didn't like this, not at all. He didn't like uncertainties, not when they did not pertain to his work, his beloved science. Did John really expect him to explain it? To say that he wanted to be liked and it made him hate his many inadequacies when the thought crossed his mind? To say that, yes, being a part of John Sheppard's team was something which brought his ego to new heights? He loved it so much, he was prepared to give it up so he could hold on to the splendid memories without ruining them because he had lesser social skills than an orang-utan. He would give it up before it had the chance to be taken away.

"We're still friends, right?" Sheppard spoke quietly. "With all this business, of essence and…" He sighed.

This was worse than Rodney had expected and so much better at the same time. What was he supposed to say when faced with such openness? He had to find something scathing quickly, before he blurted out his innermost thoughts. His self-preservation screamed out for censorship. "Have you lost your teddy? Do you want me to tuck you in for the night? Have you suddenly regressed to a prepubescent stage? Granted, you never got that far in your maturing process but still…you're suddenly ten years old?" It wasn't important, it didn't matter that the look and sound of Colonel Sheppard at that exact moment made him want to forget all that had happened, he wouldn't allow this man to intrude upon his life anymore. Rodney didn't need people, he didn't even like people!

"Feels like it when you're around." Ah, Rodney, of the betraying blue eyes. They widened in surprise, softened in understanding before the scowl settled. He was so readable, John was immediately heartened.

"Thank you so much, Sheppard! You can go now, I've been sufficiently insulted for the night!"

"Jeeeez Rodney, will you calm down! I mean…you know…" He shrugged. Planning to speak was all well and good, but if you couldn't find the proper words it was useless.

"No, Colonel, I don't know what goes on in that small, evidently overworked brain of yours. Seems basic motor functions leave little cerebral capacity for thought process and other useful cognisant undertakings, per example clear speech?"

John waited a beat, trying to find a suitable answer but decided this was a time for truth. To hell with pride, he'd plough through Rodney's defences with extreme prejudice. "You're a great guy, McKay. Fun, uncomplicated in your own way. You don't expect people to be what you want them to…except smarter but that's your genius curse. You're just Rodney and I'm just John and that's really great. I like being, just John. It's…what I mean is…being ten was fun and I wouldn't mind going back there sometimes. You bring that back and…it's been a rough couple of weeks. "

Rodney hadn't expected that. It hit him, hard, for he knew it to be true. They had fun together and life was just that little bit brighter in Atlantis, with all its wonders and wondrous people. He was a fool. John had gone through so much and he'd only added to his troubles. They were still friends and it was time Rodney acted like one.

"Rough…" A humourless laugh escaped him. "Yeah…I'd say that's an apt description for the past year or two."

"Yeah…sure been fun though."

They grinned at each other and fell silent, unwilling to let this moment escape in doubtful humour.

"Did you…I mean…are you…are you okay?" Cringing, Rodney nevertheless raised his eyes and observed Sheppard's profile. He was so horribly bad at this, but it was the thought behind the sentiment that counted, right? Sheppard would understand wouldn't he? Rodney hadn't meant to have his cephalic unit so far up his execratory opening.

"Sure…what about you?" He turned and leaned his hip against the desk, watching Rodney's hands wring themselves.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine…perfect…"

"What about, that thing…Teyla said you..." He motioned from Rodney to himself. "Are we…is there a problem?" John hadn't missed Rodney's complete avoidance of the question. He hadn't answered, not really, and this was something John needed to know. He wanted to ascertain that the part of his life that held McKay, Teyla and Ronon was intact because it was them that had kept him going, it was them that would help him through this, even if they didn't know it.

"No…no no no…it's fine, really, it's fine…Carson said he expected me to breakdown sooner or later, which is not exactly reassuring, you'd think he would've said something instead of letting me put myself at risk like that!" It wasn't fine but he could say it was, pretend it was for the sake of friendship, couldn't he? Damn Sheppard, always worming his way back into Rodney's good graces, charming him into acceptance.

"He did say something, but he probably could've mentioned it more…bringing up your eating, sleeping, working habits every time he saw you must've been too subtle!" His smile came and went quickly. "I'm sorry if I was...if I made things worst."

"You didn't. I did it to myself, I'm the King of delusions." _Aren't you just_, Rodney McKay's brain had the gall to taunt him, _thinking you could avoid them all and they'd listen._ _Thinking you hated him when in fact all you did was miss him, miss him so much it hurt. You like these people McKay, get used to it!_

"Ummmm, I'd noticed."

"Yeah…I guess you had…" Rodney's eyes wandered over Sheppard's form and a sly grin spread across his features. "I see you've passed the 'dressing yourself' stage of your development…"

Ignoring the flush he felt rising, John concentrated on keeping McKay's mind occupied, away from potentially embarrassing topics. "Yeah, but I don't really feel it. It's warm and there's a bit of weight but I can't feel the fabric at all. It's sort of…floating on top of the force field."

"Really? That's interesting! See, I've got this theory about it that could be of use with my thoughts on…"

John smiled and nodded, letting himself fall headfirst into the crazy world McKay inhabited. This was a tentative peace but they'd work on it, work on trusting each other again, erasing hurtful words and thoughtless actions. This was surely a step toward a new understanding, an open relationship that would prevent fissures from forming between them.

They'd be united once again and that was something he could believe in.


	26. Chapter 26

Oh yeah Angela! We so did it! You rule!

**Notes: **This is it folks! Thank you so very very much for hanging on so long! Honestly, Ronon wasn't supposed to kill Oblee; he messed up the plan! Which is why there will be a sequel; too many things left unexplored. Thank you so much for reading, you truly made a difference!

**Oneness**

"**Unity, to be real, must stand the severest strain without breaking"**

He'd just exited his room when it started. His heart was beating too fast, there was a tight, burning pain in his chest and he was sweating far too profusely for the temperature and the negligible amount of strain he had put on his body. He should really go to the infirmary, this couldn't be good! Elizabeth would understand, wouldn't she? He couldn't attend a mission briefing with a potentially deadly condition! It was completely insane, not to mention unprofessional. It was just a briefing...with them. They'd all be there. John, who knew too much and made Rodney distinctly uncomfortable these days despite their semblance of an understanding; Ronon and Teyla fresh from the Mainland, as thick as thieves and without a doubt planning his death by primitive weapons for the wringer he'd put them through.

The first mission since they'd gone to Atle. Now, Atlantis' first contact team, of which Rodney had the misfortune to be a part, would be preparing to go out there again, eager to face the next world, the next people who would threaten their lives and possibly take them. Rodney shook his head; thoughts like these would only worry him needlessly. It would be fine, once again they'd all escaped, none the worst for wear and they would keep on doing so until the day they all fell. He entered the transporter, wiping his face with the collar of his shirt.

The briefing could wait, better go see Carson before it was too late for _him_! He could very well be living his last moments on Earth or, rather, in Atlantis. They always said he overreacted, made mountains out of molehills! Yes well, they should know a splinter could mean pain and infection if not removed properly! What if the one time he refrained from making his discomfort known was the one time he died! Yes! Better, much better to go see Carson! He might get candy out of it too; Carson had gotten a care package in the mail just the other day! His mother sent caramels every time. Certainly, impending death, misbehaving bodily fluids and caramels were perfectly good reasons to pay a visit to the doctor!

He bypassed the central section of the city completely and chose the transporter closest to the infirmary as his destination. Upon entering, he wasted no time in making his presence known. "Carson!"

The wanted man sat at his desk, pouring over data, blissfully immersed in the marvel that was the field of human genetics. He sighed as the urgent tone of voice registered. "Rodney?" He stood up and waited for his most regular patient to come forth with a tale of infectious cuts, cancerous lumps or a newly discovered allergy.

"I'm having a heart attack!" That was the conclusion he had reached. The addition of a tingling in his left arm to the list of symptoms he was experiencing only made it evident. It was a wonder he was still standing, had been able to make his way to the infirmary at all.

Energy shot through Carson, for this was not the answer he had been expecting, and he hurried to Rodney's side, placing a hand on his chest to guide him backwards to the bed. "Sit. How are you feeling?" He armed himself of his arsenal and proceeded to poke and prod.

"Bad! Carson! Bad! I'm having a heart attack!"

"Symptoms?" It was usually easy with Rodney, he always knew what was happening, didn't hold back. In fact, he tended to give too much information.

"Chest pains, like my heart's going to explode, I can't breathe properly, and I'm definitely sweating a lot more than I should and my arm…it hurts, Carson! My arm is tingly!"

"Alright Rodney, calm down, you'll be fine."

"Carson! Heart attack can cause brain damage! Shove the platitude and do something!"

"I am, you just breathe. Go on, slowly, in…" Carson inhaled deeply and motioned for Rodney to do the same. Give the man something to concentrate on so he didn't add a full-blown panic to his ever-growing list of problems…panic…oh surely Rodney knew better! "…out. Again…in…out…that's it, that's it, slowly."

"I'm not giving birth! I don't need to breathe like an idiot! Oh God, oh God, oh God, I'm dying, I'm dying and you don't know what to do!"

"You're not dying. I know what to do and I am telling you to breathe. In…out…in…out…"

"I know how to breathe thank you!"

"Do it then. Concentrate."

Whilst Rodney focused on breathing, his heartbeat slowed, his body relaxed and the sweating went down a notch. Carson concluded he was not, in fact, having a heart attack but rather one brought on by anxiety. It was less concerning but just as traumatic for the sufferer. He was surprised that Rodney had not recognised it for what it was; the man was usually able to reach a suitable diagnosis for his ailments. He put down his medical paraphernalia and sat down, bumping his shoulder into the other man's.

"What are you doing! Carson, I'm –"

"Rodney…" Threading dangerous grounds, possible insulted scientist in the near future. "…you're having a panic attack."

"I'm not!" He wasn't, was he? Rodney took a moment to catalogue the symptoms which had abated drastically. It made sense. He had been quite tense since waking up this morning. "Alright…ok… yes, I suppose I was…" He cleared his throat loudly, attempting to regain his composure. "I'll be going now, things to do, people to see…" He stood, intent on escaping Carson's perceptive and questioning nature.

Knowing a strategic retreat when he saw one, Carson reached out and pulled Rodney back to his original sitting position. "Wait a tick, I say when a patient is ready to leave."

"Obviously I don't need your permission as I'm not a patient!"

"I say who's a patient or not. You step through that door, you're in my kingdom, and I'm telling you to keep your arse down on that bed."

"I, for one, have not stopped breathing once today and certainly do not need medical supervision from a royal quack to do it!" His arguments and tone were convincing but his body betrayed him as it sat down much closer to Carson than was reasonable. He shifted slightly. "I'm fine now." This was impossibly embarrassing. He should've known! He'd had panic attacks before!

"Glad to hear it, but you'll stay here for a while."

"I can't! I have a million things to do and…briefing! Briefing! I have a briefing, I have to go, they'll be waiting! We have a mission, tomorrow! I have to go!"

"No you don't. I'll tell Elizabeth you'll be a while."

"No no no, I have to go! I'm fine now!"

"Sit!"

"I'm not your pet!"

"Aye, I'd never keep a cheeky bugger like you around!" He tapped his radio once. "Elizabeth?"

Her voice answered immediately. "Carson? What is it?" Nice but to the point.

"Rodney's here and tells me he's meant to be at a briefing. It might be a good idea to reschedule if you can."

"What happened? Is he okay?"

"Should be right as rain this afternoon, it's not serious."

"Alright, I'll take care of it. Thank you, keep me posted."

"I will." Carson turned off the communication unit and turned back to Rodney as Elizabeth informed John, Teyla and Ronon that it would be wise to discuss this mission later in the day.

"Why?" John was eager to finalise this planning, eager to get back out there and do something! He'd last walked through the gate almost a month ago and cabin fever was nowhere near his level of restlessness.

"Rodney's in the infirmary."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. Carson wasn't very forthcoming. Nothing to be worried about, seems he'll be released this afternoon. We can set the briefing for…1500 hours, if Rodney's well."

"Yeah." John shrugged, his mind travelling through Atlantis' lengthy corridors to settle on Rodney.

"May we go and see him?" Teyla couldn't mask the worry in her voice. She had been away from the city for more than a week and had only this morning heard of the difficulties John had faced when trying to put things right with their team-mate.

"I think that would be a great use of your time. Now, I will see you all here later!" Elizabeth vacated her chair after a quick nod and went to her office. She would contact Carson soon for more information.

Teyla turned to Sheppard. "Shall we go now or would it be better if you went by yourself?"

"Poke the bear, we'll cover you." Ronon had taken to grinning, a lot. It was slightly disturbing, but once you got used to him losing his stoic front, it was really quite pleasant. Not that he'd ever do it in public, he had a rep to protect after all. Still, a joke and a grin from Ronon were all kinds of all right for John.

"Right, because you guys think I'm going in there first! I've died enough times already…"

Wince.

Wince.

Wince.

"That didn't come out right. Yeah, let's go see what's wrong with our drama queen."

They stood and made their way to the infirmary in silence, each too preoccupied by their thoughts which John's innocent comment had slightly darkened.

John heard the familiar brogue but couldn't make out the words. He only heard what Rodney's not-so-soft voice declared. "I know that, I'm not an idiot!"

They drew closer and he grew worried for Carson did not take the obvious bait. "I'm not saying you are."

"Well it sure sounded like it! Could you be any more condescending! Really, it's like I've suddenly regressed! I'm a grown man and I don't need you chastising me!"

"Give the man a break, McKay, he's doing his job!" John sat on the other side of the bed.

"Colonel. What do you want?"

"We came to see what you've done to yourself this time."

Rodney's eyes travelled from him to Ronon and lingered on Teyla a second too long, noting her worried expression. Clearing his throat loudly he stood and moved to Carson's side. "Yes well…I just…I was…I didn't do anything!"

"Relax, you're not on trial! We just came by to see how you were!"

"Oh…right, right…I'm fine…uh…thank...uh…thank you."

"Is he really, Doc?"

"Aye. Should rest, maybe take a nap, but he'll be fine."

"I'm rested enough, Carson! I don't need a _nap_!"

"Would, let's see, a walk and some sunshine do?" John had a plan. This was the perfect opportunity to get his team away from the main sections of the city and start work on _his_ unification theory.

"As long as he's kept away from enticing consoles, panels and other flirty energy things…"

"Flirty! I'll have you know that what you dismiss so easily makes this ridiculous kingdom of yours as useful as it can possibly be, which is not a lot, granted, but I would be careful of the terms I used if I were you! What does that mean anyway, flirty energy things? You have the worst vocabulary known to man!" Rodney had to buy some time; he didn't want to go walk with any of them at the moment. "Now, I'm going to go have a shower and rest."

"Wait a minute, Rodney. You just said you were rested enough. I think it would be much better for you to get some sun, get that death-pale skin pinked up and those lungs flushed out. Fresh air can't hurt, can it?" John turned his sight to Carson who smiled knowingly.

"Right you are, Colonel. Rodney, as your Doctor, I'm recommending a stroll on the balconies, an _accompanied _stroll."

"Oh, very clever, but it's not going to work. I don't need keepers and I certainly don't need to burn to a crisp for the sake of fresh air. I'll open the window!"

Carson laid a hand on Rodney's forearm. "It'll do you good."

"Carson…"

"Just for an hour."

Shoulders slumping, sighing lengthily, Rodney McKay agreed. Mark the calendars! "Fine. I'll go."

"Jeeeeee, Rodney, where's the love!"

"I obviously dislike you immensely; you'll have to get your love somewhere else!"

"Well, I sure like a challenge! Now, get a move on." Smirking smugly, answering with a confidence he did not feel, John pretended that scatting comment hadn't hurt. If things were to get back to normal, he'd have to stop overreacting like this. Rodney hadn't meant it.

"Right…yes, I can do that…"

Carson was quite pleased, as he watched them walk away. He wasn't foolish enough to think their wounds had mended, but they would be treated.

They made it to the East Pier in relative silence. The sun was shining brightly, there was a light breeze that carried the scent of the ocean bringing a salty taste to their mouths. Teyla and Ronon preceded John and Rodney, walking much slower than their usual pace, enjoying the moment, the company. Ronon was the first to suggest they take a break.

"McKay's supposed to be resting…"

"I don't need rest! I'm fine, I said I was fine didn't I?"

"You did say you were feeling well, but you were in the infirmary and Doctor Beckett did insist you should rest. We can sit here for a moment. I am certain we can all benefit from the rest, we shall be more alert tomorrow."

"I suppose we can…it's nice out today." Rodney sat his back against the wall, legs stretched out in front. The wind brought a light mist to his location, an impression of freshness to his skin. His eyes roamed the horizon, taking in the blue of the sky reflected in the translucent waves of the ocean.

"Weather talk. Wow, we've reached rock bottom."

"Yeah, a few days ago." Ronon was all for a strong approach. He knew Sheppard had meant it as a joke, but it would be foolish not to take advantage of the utter truth hidden in the innocent comment. He so desperately wanted them, and his life by extension, to be as it had been. He especially wanted them to be happy. How his priorities had changed. He was used to wanting life to continue on flowing through his body, and though he still did for very obvious reasons, he had the luxury to want other less important things. Like chocolate cake, with ice cream and hot fudge. Or friendship.

Rodney ignored the message. "What! I was just commenting on the day! What's wrong with that! I haven't been out for a while!"

"It's fine, weather talk is fine…go on, talk about the barometric pressure, I know you're dying to astound us with your incredible knowledge of everything."

"I'll have you know meteorology is a very boring and wasteful pseudo-science –"

"That you could give lectures about, umm?"

"Why'd you go see Beckett?" This, in Ronon's opinion, was a much better topic and as Rodney was breathing in deeply, no doubt gathering his forces for an extensive exposé, he thought it wise to interrupt.

Rodney's face betrayed his unease by taking a rather un-fetching shade of red. "Nothing! That's personal!"

"If it's personal, it must be something!" John had to agree with Ronon, this promised to bring not only valuable information to the table, but possible blackmail material. He had accumulated quite a list in the two years he'd known Rodney and was always eager for more. If it could protect him on the day the scientist crossed to the truly evil side and put his plan for universal domination in effect…

"It's something that's no one's business but my own!"

"Come on, McKay, we have a mission tomorrow. If you're not feeling well we have to know."

"I'm feeling perfectly fine! I've said that already if you would only listen!"

Teyla sat down beside him and placed a gentle hand on his knee. "Rodney, we only want to help. If you are unwell we would very much like to be informed."

"Yeah, can't go out there when you're sick!"

"Oh for God's sake! I thought I was having a heart attack! There! Happy now? I'm not sick, you're not sick, we're all great and we'll have a great mission tomorrow!" He resisted the urge to stand and walk back to his lab. Teyla's hand was comfortably warm where it lay on his leg and he didn't want to move, for fear it would be taken away.

"What happened?"

"Turns out I wasn't, Carson said I should rest, you showed up and here we are. The end!"

"Was there nothing wrong?"

"Nothing."

"What made you think you were having a heart attack? What's the deal?"

"Fine!" He got up and walked over to the railing, placed his hands upon it and leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the ocean. "I had a panic attack alright! I was on my way to the briefing and I got scared! Now let's all have a good laugh and go back, I have work to do."

He felt a hand on his back, the same hand that had warmed his leg a moment ago. "We would never laugh at your pain." Teyla wasn't quite sure what a panic attack was but could extrapolate from empirical evidence acquired over the last two years. If Rodney had felt the need to go see Carson, it must have been frightfully unpleasant.

John had also moved to the edge of the balcony and was leaning mostly against the railing, though his left arm was pressed companionably against Rodney's, letting a fraction of his weight rest upon it. Ronon stood beside Teyla, leaning in casually, as if it was by accident that his side brushed against her just so.

"What's scary about a briefing?" Ronon asked earnestly.

"I don't know. I just got scared. Happens often enough, it's not like I need a reason!"

"There is no need to be afraid, we are here, we will protect you."

"That's just it, isn't it! You can't! You can't do that! You'll just…" His shoulders hunched, his head fell that much closer to the railing. He breathed in deeply. "You'll just die! You'll die because I won't be able to save you! You'll die because you think it's your job or that's what you do; fight because instinct tells you to! You'll all die and I'll wish I had instead! I don't do that! I'm not some…selfless hero! I don't have the martyr complex! I'm all about me but…damn it!"

"Rodney…"

"No! Don't Rodney me again! Someone's always Rodney-ing me like I'm unreasonable! I'm not! You know it's true! How many times have you almost died this year, eh? Ten, twenty, fifty! How many times in the last month!"

"Too many…"

There was no answer after John spoke, no comeback, no retort, no sound but the crashing waves of the ocean as they rushed toward Atlantis' side. They stood, sharing the warmth as it came from the sun and was communicated by the proximity of bodies. Watching the waves, Ronon couldn't help but admire their strength, Teyla wondered what hid beneath the turbulent waters and Rodney worried that someday they would claim his city and its inhabitants. As for John, he noted that they kept going, never to be stopped, only falling back to mesh with their counterparts.

Life; just a matter of perception.

_Pause_


End file.
